


Black Cat

by DevillesDemon



Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Action, Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Double Agents, Edited, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Violence, Identity Reveal, New mission in Turgistan, OC works against the team, One’s Backstory (and name?), Post-Canon, Romance, Seven is the voice of Reason, Sexual References, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Team as Family, quick-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 40,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevillesDemon/pseuds/DevillesDemon
Summary: Blake is one of Circe's Angels, agent B: the black cat, Chat Noire. Ruthless, fast, deadly - she has just one weakness, and Circe damn well knows it.Her latest mission? Steal the controls to the Turgistani nuclear armoury. It should be easy; she has the perfect disguise, a fancy ball to give her cover, and Murat's safe isn't very safe at all.Too bad one Ghost in particular is determined to get in her way, and, just maybe, into her heart.--------------------------------------------'This whole thing was just beautiful 👏' @harryskw'One of the best reads I've had in a while' @runawaygirl912'Finally a story that can make me genuinely laugh. 10/10 would recommend' @ilikehazzastyles---------------------------------------------CONTENT WARNINGS: sexual references, swearing, canon-typical graphic violence. Eventual smut - skippable with warnings.[Also on Wattpad]
Relationships: Four | Billy (6 Underground)/Original Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 80
Kudos: 126





	1. To Catch A Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly suggest reading with the ‘Entire Work’ button if you’re going for a marathon read in a night, since chapter length varies from a few hundred words to a few thousand!
> 
> Happy reading! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Get ready for a wild ride :)

> Hi all! Just to let you know that Black Cat is now fully edited (as of 02/04/20), with 10,000 words of new content - including the smut so many of you have asked for. Most of the new content is sprinkled throughout, though there are a few completely new chapters (labelled nicely with NEW in the chapter names).
> 
> Let me know if the chapter cat puns are too cringe - or if you've got any better suggestions. I look forward to you getting your thinking-cats on and kitten around with me ;)
> 
> Stay safe and paw-sitive in these troubled times,<br />  
>  ~ Deville's Demon

"Will you two stop bickering and focus?" One growled at Three and Four. "If you don't want to take this seriously, you can leave."

"We are taking it seriously," Four argued. "Three eats his chips with _mayonnaise_. It's disgusting!"

Three shrugged and stuffed a mayonnaise-laden chip in his mouth. One gave them both a hard glare before turning back to the blueprints on his monitor.

"I've had intelligence that someone is going to try to steal the big red button, so to speak, for the entirety of the Turgistani nuclear weaponry."

Five frowned. "I thought Murat decommissioned them."

"So did I. But Murat's been keeping them as a political incentive for peace. Which is fair, because in a time of political unrest the country is vulnerable to invasion... But that's not the point," One waved an arm. "The point is, there's only one button, and that is kept in a briefcase in the most high-security vault you will likely ever come across. It's impenetrable." One indicated the safe's location on the blueprints on his computer monitor, five floors underground in the main building.

"So what's the problem?" Four asked. "If it's impenetrable..."

One sent him a sharp look. "Feet off the table." Four obeyed with an eye roll. "The _problem_ is the how and the when. Most importantly, the _who_. My contact has told me the Chat Noire is on this mission."

Seven snorted. "And what sort of a dumb name is that?"

"A fucking _dangerous_ one."

"Isn't that the woman who killed the president of Tahitana?" Two asked.

"The very same."

Four looked between them,

One lowered his voice dramatically. "He was on a submarine in the middle of nowhere. He and the entirety of his guard were found after they lost contact. She slit every one of their throats, individually. There were no other traces, except a lipstick-print on one of the guards."

"Jesus," Four muttered. "Sounds intense."

"Cat likes to play with her food," Two commented with a raised eyebrow.

One nodded. "Exactly. She's lethal, trained to kill, but I'm counting on the fact that she's cocky. She likes to make a spectacle of her work, and we can use that to our advantage."

***

Blake stared down at Murat as he raised a toast. He didn't seem like a bad person, really, and she wouldn't take any pleasure in stealing his nuclear fleet - except for the adrenaline rush of the heist, of course. She clenched her fist thoughtfully, eyeing the cord of the chandelier as the blade slid out over her knuckles, wondering if a distraction would be useful.

But there were innocents below. Her high-tech goggles zoomed in on the faces of the people as they clapped after Murat's speech - his generals, his advisors, a few philanthropists, and some reporters made up the main body of the crowd.

Blond hair caught her eye and she stayed her gaze. As the young man turned to survey the room with a trained eye, she realised with mild irritation that he was one of the team she had been warned about. He raised his camera to his face as if to take photos of the proceedings, but his lips moved, talking into the radio that was no doubt concealed underneath the camera.

Blake leaped from the beam to the balcony, slipping back into the shadows. In privacy, she changed into a long red dress, slipping on red heels to match. She stuffed her necessary equipment inside her bra, let her hair bounce around her shoulders, and adorned herself with diamonds. Her attention to detail with the gear loadout was precise down to the last stitch on the underwear she wore; her boss would never settle for less than perfection, and Blake never delivered anything less than flawless.

It wasn't hard to get down to the dining room, where all the guests were being treated to a sit-down meal. It only took a little acting 'lost' to a guard to be escorted downstairs; she deftly lifted his key-card as she thanked him, and promptly struck up conversation with some rich-looking people.

Blake was playing the part of some lady diplomat tonight - the real one she had taken out of the equation with a few strong laxatives - and she graciously introduced herself to the other guests. She soon found herself on the arm of some fat, rich man, who swanned her around like a prize, introducing her as if she was his sixth wife-to-be. Blake was perfectly happy to let him do this; it was the perfect disguise.

Murat tapped his glass with a fork. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you will be seated, the starters will be served shortly."

Blake excused herself from the man's presence and left to find her seat on the seating plan. It was near the back, in an ideal position for a quick getaway; Blake's techy partner-in-crime, Harmony, had organised it specifically when she had hacked the system to find a suitable persona for Blake to adopt from the guest list.

She reached out to pull out her chair, but a pale hand beat her to it. "Please, allow me," a man said, and she smiled and allowed him to pull out her chair. It was only when he sat down next to her and she got a proper look at him that she realised it was the blond she had seen before.

Inwardly cursing her rotten luck, she didn't realise her expression must have been thunderous until he cleared his throat.

"Ellis Davies, reporter for the Star magazine," he introduced, holding out his hand hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure of the proper etiquette.

"Lady Angelica," She replied, forcing herself to flash him smile as she shook his hand firmly. Even if she didn't know who he was, she'd suspect something from the way he gripped her hand too tightly and didn't maintain eye-contact throughout the exchange.

He wasn't too bad to look at, really. The accurate description would be a pretty boy: blond hair, green eyes, pink smile. She'd met plenty of pretty boys in her life. Killed a few, too.

With nothing else to do, she struck up an uneasy conversation about the weather, followed by the guests and the setting and the country's politics. Despite the inconvenience of making small talk with her enemy, she actually started to enjoy their conversation as it grew less stilted and less formal. Blake found herself watching his face as he spoke, her eyes lingering over his lips. Not only was he a pretty face; he was actually rather charming. Very opinionated, a little crude at times, but charming, nonetheless. When he laughed, his whole face lit up, and she found it was infectious.

They got looks from the other guests. Neither of them cared.

"Perhaps we could go upstairs and have a glass or two of wine later," he suggested, his long fingers stroking the stem of his almost-empty glass. He flicked his eyes to hers with a lady-killing smirk. "We could continue this conversation."

Blake felt her face grow a little hot. "Perhaps," she teased, breaking the sexual tension, "but I've already promised my time to someone else."

"You have?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed coyly, sipping her champagne, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

"Surely not the man you were with earlier?" he asked, disbelief etched all over his face.

She almost snorted out her champagne at his indignant expression, and she swallowed quickly before letting out a laugh, shocking some of the people nearby.

"No! I'm _joking_ , Ellis! I'd _love_ to have a glass or two with you," Blake said, waving her hand expressively. "My room is the second on the right, floor fourteen. Room number 56. See you at..." She bit her lip. "Eleven?"

His affirmative reply sent her heady with feminine power. Blake's contract clearly stated she could have no sexual relations unless it benefitted her mission; she hadn't had the opportunity to scratch that itch for over two years. She could definitely write this one up as digging for information.

On that thought, Blake smiled and slid out of her chair. "I've got to powder my nose," she explained with a rueful smile. "I'll be back in a moment."

She made sure to keep her pace even as she exited the dining hall. In the corridor, she took out the card she had lifted from the guard earlier and stepped into the lift. She kept her head down and away from the CCTV camera as she pressed for floor -5, and hoped the guard she had stolen the card from had clearance for the lower floors.

The lift started to move, and she began to relax a little; so far, so good. However, on floor -4, the doors slid open. Before she had time to worry that the card didn't give her clearance to lower floors, a blonde woman in guard uniform stepped into the lift. She looked Blake up and down.

"Lost?" She asked.

Blake recognised her as the Ghost that was codenamed Two and immediately giggled tipsily, adding a little unsteady sway to her act. "No, I'm looking for... for... someone..."

She stumbled into Two as the lift stopped abruptly on floor -5. Two, fully believing Blake's drunken performance, caught her and steadied her.

"Woah, easy there. How much have you drunk?"

Blake peeled herself off of Two's chest and made for the doors, wobbling in her heels. "My friend should be on this floor. I'm just going to look for her..."

"Hey, wait." Two caught her arm, turning her quickly to study her face. She frowned deeply. "Did you say _this_ floor?"

"Yeah... Minus five. She said something about staying safe... Something about a _safe_..." Blake looked at her slyly from beneath her lashes as she mumbled.

Two's eyes widened, and she swore softly. "I'll find her, don't worry. Why don't you go back to the dining room and I'll send her back up?"

Blake grinned. "Would you? You're so _nice_!"

Two steered Blake back into the lift and pressed for floor 0, then stepped out. Blake let the lift rise a few floors, then redirected it back to floor -5. She smiled to herself. She could feign drunkenness if she was caught again, and Two would most likely defend her story.

Blake figured she must have stolen a master key-card from the guard because she sailed through the barriers. She took a sample of the guard's fingerprint from the card and the scanners accepted it easily.

There was only one close call from the team, where a dark-skinned man passed by the alcove she hid in, speaking into a walkie-talkie: "...Honestly, Four, I think she's done a runner on your ass. _'We could go upstairs and have a glass of wine_ '? What dumb fuck says that? You gotta find better pick-up lines, man..."

The safe door was as thick as it was wide. Blake took the decoder out of her bra and stuck it beside the code panel. It was surprisingly easy to prise off the cover and reconnect the wires; in just a few seconds, the door swung open. She grabbed the black briefcase inside – so far everything was fine. It wasn't going to plan, exactly, but it was going well.

What she didn't expect to happen was a weight-bearing alarm to go off and the safe door to become magnetised. She crashed into it hard, the knife in her thigh-strap and the gear in her bra being attracted to it instantly. Face pressed to the metal, she thanked god she's turned her face to the side – a broken nose would be a dead giveaway of her identity in the getaway. After struggling for a moment, she slipped out of her bra and thigh-strap, grabbed the briefcase, and legged it.

Blake heard shouting behind her, and a gunshot went off. A bullet hit her hip, throwing her off balance before she caught herself and continued running. Her dress may have been bullet-proofed, but that didn't mean she was impact-proof. She was going to be left with a nasty bruise, and she knew she was lucky it glanced off the flesh of her hip and didn't break a bone.

More yelling ensued. She was thankful she had been trained to run in heels, since she wouldn't have had time to remove them. Her hip smarted with each step; she soldiered through the pain.

Blake saw the handgun before the owner turned the corner and instinctively hit it upwards with the briefcase. The gun went off and plaster rained from the ceiling, disorientating the brunette woman long enough for Blake to hit the pressure-point on her exposed neck; she went down like a sack of bricks.

Blake stood over her prone body for a moment and quickly identified the brunette as Five. She stole her gun, but a quick inspection later showed it to be DNA activated and therefore useless to her. She discarded it as she entered the lift and pressed for floor 14.

When the lift paused on floor 2 Blake hurriedly tucked the briefcase down in the front corner by the doors and stepped away a little, hoping it was out of sight of whoever was about to enter (a finely dressed woman with a briefcase was certain to arouse suspicion – or men at its possible lewd contents. She didn't want to be assaulted by men thinking she was going to service a client upstairs). When the doors opened, however, she was greeted by Four, who seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

"Uh... Hi," he said, stepping in. "I thought you'd left."

"I got distracted," she answered breezily. "Impromptu conference call. You can't let them wait when you're in charge of a multi-million-pound company."

He swallowed her lie like it was syrup. "Of course. Are we still on for later?"

"Of course," she returned flirtily. She put her hand to her chest. "I wouldn't run out on you without saying goodbye, _Ellis_."

As planned, his eyes followed her movement and stayed on her chest, where her skin-tight red dress revealed the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. She smiled inwardly. As the doors opened on floor 14, she bent down, flashing her cleavage, and hid the case behind her.

She winked at him. "See you later," she said, pressing the button for floor 15 to close the doors on him. She slid the case around her body to the front to hide it from his intense gaze, swaying her hips as she walked down the corridor.

When she heard the doors close behind her, she shook her head, cleared her thoughts, and retrieved her kit from a bag she had stowed behind a decorative flowerpot earlier. Blake got changed, fitted her mask over her face, stuck the briefcase in her rucksack, slung the rucksack over her shoulders, then hurled the flowerpot at the glass window. She shielded her face as it shattered, then with a running leap launched herself into the air.

Blake heard Four shout behind her, obviously having returned the lift to floor 14 after hearing the crash. Her feet hit the roof of the low-rise 13 floor building beside the skyscraper and she rolled, stood, and began to run.

She pumped her legs faster at the sound of boots hitting the ground behind her. Blake jumped again, flying over the gaps between the buildings with ease, racing across the rooftops. She didn't dare glance back, but the adrenaline of free-running made her push harder, hell-bent on losing her pursuer.

She saw a shadow move over the asphalt ahead of her and cursed inwardly, changing course from her pre-planned route as someone opened fire from behind the cover of an air conditioning unit. She ducked her head, swerved behind some pillars, and kept running, now frustratingly unfamiliar with her route and terrain.

A single gunshot rang out as Blake was mid-way into a leap, hitting her like a punch to the ribs and changing her directory. She was winded by the impact, and body-slammed the building in front of her, but managed to catch the edge with one elbow on the lip of the flat roof.

A shadow passed over her; her pursuer had jumped the gap. She looked down, considering her options. A ten storey drop awaited her if she let go.

Someone grabbed her wrists before she could take the fall and she looked up to see Four heaving her back onto the roof. She scrambled back up and with one last tug from Four she made it over the edge and stumbled into him, knocking him flat.

"You can let go now," she said, pulling her wrists away from him and hoping the shock factor would make him do so.

He didn't. He stared up at her cat mask briefly while he panted and then suddenly rolled them over, straddling her hips and pinning her wrists over her head.

"You're not going anywhere," he snapped. "One, come in, I've got the cat."

Blake narrowed her eyes. She wasn't going to give up that easily. While he was distracted by whatever 'One' was saying over the comms, she gathered her legs beneath her and propelled them both over, slamming his back to the roof. She ripped herself out of his grasp, but his hand caught her ankle and she face-planted to the floor.

She rolled onto her back and kicked out, hoping her heel would find his face; he grabbed her ankles and steadfastly held them against the asphalt, scowling at her.

"I don't know what they were so worried about," he panted, he pushed himself up onto his knees, still holding down her ankles with most of his body weight, clearly planning on pinning down her torso. She knew that if he did then he could restrain her wrists, and that would be it. She wouldn't be able to fight him off if he managed it. "Dangerous, my arse."

"Let me _go_ ," she growled, clawing at the concrete and ripping one foot away from him. She planted her foot against his chest, propelling him away, giving her enough time to jump to her feet, grab the case and run again.

"Extraction team, come in," Blake panted into her comms.

" _Copy, lose the Ghosts_ ," Harmony ordered. " _Meet me at the plaza_."

"Roger that. I'm working on it."

A blur of blonde locks filled her vision and she barely ducked under Two's fist. Blake span with the momentum and landed a swift kick to Two's back. She didn't wait to continue the fight - she had to leave. She'd taken one of them out, but that meant there were still five of them left, and they seemed to be more elite than she had realised.

Another gunshot, this time whizzing past her head. She quickly calculated the angle and traced it back to the roof of the building behind and to the right, and leaped off of the roof to take herself out of the sniper's line of sight, twisting mid-air to catch the edge of the fire escape and lower herself into the alleyway.

Once on the ground it was easy to lose them. People were gathering as the police were called, and she blended into the curious crowd. She removed her mask, slicked her hair up into a ponytail, pick-pocketed a pair of sunglasses from a handbag, and stole a scarf to wear as a poncho to cover the top half of her black suit. It wasn't perfect, but for a makeshift disguise it was good enough.

She managed to cross the crowd without suspicion, slipping into the shadows of the backstreets. A few men eyed her as she passed them in the darkness, but her confident walk warned them off approaching her.

She took the twisting path to her left, making sure she double backed and circled. When she was happy no-one was following, she stepped into an alleyway and got into the bright red smart car.

"You couldn't find something more discrete?" She asked with a withering look as she clipped in her seatbelt.

"Everyone has one of these bad boys in Turgistan," Harmony said breezily. "Trust me, we'll blend right in."


	2. To Catch A Cat

> Since this has been edited, I haven't been able to keep a lot of the comments where they should be (I just copy-pasted in the original chapters). So, venture into the comments section at your own risk! You may find lurking spoilers (or very late comments that don't work with the chapter).

"Fuck!" One burst out, slamming his hands down beside his keyboard. "She disabled the tracker."

"Didn't take long," Three commented.

"Don't admire her too much, your girlfriend will get jealous," Five joked weakly. She was laid out on one of the sofas, an ice pack on the back of her head where she'd fallen and hit it.

"What else have we got on her?" Two asked, frowning deeply. "Something. Anything." She glanced up at One. "What about that kiss she always leaves?"

"She didn't this time."

Seven rested one ankle on his thigh, nodding slowly in thought. "I'm guessing something went wrong with her plan."

" _We_ went wrong with her plan," One said, pride lacing his tone.

"Yeah, but she still got away," Four pointed out, gingerly resting his elbows on his knees - the bruises were blossoming all over from the fight. "What happens if she gets away with the real thing?"

"Have some fucking _faith._ "

"I wonder how much she's getting paid," Three mused. "Could we buy her out?"

"And how would we approach that? Put it all over the billboards and hope she sees our offer before she decides to blow our fucking brains out – or blow up Turgistan? No."

"She was wearing some kind of bulletproof suit," Seven said, pointing at one of the images on One's screen. "And a bulletproof dress before that."

"I've never seen material like it," One agreed, his expression hardening as his attention shifted. "I don't know who the fuck is sponsoring her, but they've got more advanced technology than I've ever seen. I mean, she shouldn't have been able to get past the code on the safe. It was 12 digits long. But she used this thing," he indicated the decoder, "to do it in seconds."

Five shifted and winced as her head throbbed. "So what's the plan?"

" _You_ , you need to rest," Two said. "And we just wait until she makes another appearance. And she will, right?"

"Yes." One nodded curtly, closing down his tabs definitively. "The cat likes to play."

***

" _Congratulations_ ," Harmony sighed. "You stole a fake. Did you not think to check?"

"There wasn't really enough time," Blake replied curtly, using her glove blade to slice the wires on the tracker inside. "You know, what with the Ghosts on my tail as soon as I took it."

Harmony glanced at her. "We have to go back. Circe won't rest until she has it."

Blake nodded absently as she rewired the tracker, flinching at the sparks caused by the short-circuit. Winding down the window, she let the wind cool her cheeks before throwing the case out the car. It made a satisfying crunch on the tarmac and the car behind them swerved, horn blaring.

Harmony sighed a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head, smiling despite herself. "Do you live for chaos?"

Blake shrugged and grinned. "Yes."

***

It was the weirdest feeling, to have your enemy beside you in a bed, collapsed and panting with a sheen of sweat over you both. Though Blake didn't regret it on any level.

Four propped himself up on one elbow, grinning lazily. Blake returned his infectious smile with a satisfied one of her own. _God_ , it had been way too long since she'd spent the night with someone. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like. _Almost_.

"Well, Angelica," he drawled, tracing one finger over her exposed ribs. "It's been a _pleasure_."

"Sure as hell has been," she agreed, closing her eyes at his soft touch. She found it hard to look into his eyes, even now; at the height of her pleasure, she had buried her head into his shoulder, preferring not to look at his face. It seemed too personal.

A little pain blossomed as his finger circled the blooming bruises on her rib cage, courtesy of their chase earlier. She fought the urge to stiffen when she realised that he could easily put two and two together, and she worked on appearing completely unaffected by his unspoken question as he tilted his head at her.

"I tripped and hit it on a banister," she explained, trying not to rush the words and give herself away. "I had way too much free wine today."

"It's bad."

"I know."

They were silent for a few moments, then he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, presenting her with his muscled back. He glanced over his shoulder.

"I'd better go," he said. "Sorry. My boss will kill me if I'm late tomorrow."

"It's okay. I'm tired anyways."

"I'll take that as _'you wore me out'_ , rather than _'you bored me so much'_ ," he teased as he shrugged on his shirt.

She settled further into the pillows, stretching out luxuriously. "You didn't wear me out _too_ much..." she said with a coy smile.

"Is that a challenge? Because I will one-hundred-percent come back for round two."

Blake smiled and danced her fingers over his back, delighting in the little shiver she elicited from him. "Leave me your number, and I'll text you when I'm free."

***

"Alright, guys... _And_ ladies. I have a plan."

"Nice save," Two growled.

One shrugged. "Thank you. Right, so-"

"If this involves another one of your fucking magnets-" Seven threatened.

"Hey! Watch your tone, soldier-boy. It's going to be a simple reverse-heist."

"What the fuck's a reverse heist?"

"A reverse heist. Minus the... Never mind." He shook his head. "We're going to trap her _in the safe_."

"On what fucking planet is that a good idea?"

"I don't know, but it's our only idea."

Two nodded slowly, interrupting the two men before One goaded Seven too much. "The safe is only prison that can hold her," she mused.

One gave her finger guns. " _Right_. See, Two gets me!"

"It's still a dumb idea," Seven grumbled.

"We're going to need disguises again. I'll get the safe door shut. Two, you're watching my back in case it goes tits-up. Seven, I want you on the roof in case she's got backup. Take those motherfuckers out if they show their faces. Five- uh, lookout with Seven?"

Five gave him a glare, but even she couldn't deny she wouldn't be much help with a mild concussion. "Fine," she sighed, settling back on the sofa with a resigned huff.

"Great." One clapped his hands together. "Four, you're back on the easy job. Murat's agreed to hold another meet to draw her out, so you'll be keeping an eye on what's going on with the people. Three, you're on policing duty. Don't let _anyone_ into the lower levels. Say there's a gas leak or some shit. We good?"

***

"Murat's holding another meet-and-greet with his patrons," Harmony explained as she tapped away on her keyboard. "Circe's sent someone to take the real Lady Angelica out of the running for you again."

"Oh, goodie," Blake said sarcastically. She was lying on the bed in the hotel room, flicking a knife in the air mindlessly, catching it, and throwing it again. She glanced over at Harmony, catching the knife in her fist. "You told Circe I'd failed?"

"I had to. C'mon, second time lucky," Harmony appealed, swivelling her chair to face Blake fully. A little frown creased her brow at Blake's disinterest. "You know what's at stake."

Blake rolled over and stuck the knife in the pillow, forceful enough to pin it into the bed. "Of course I know," she snapped, as a plume of tiny white feathers drifted into the air. She didn't feel any better for her little act of destruction, and rolled over to the other side of the double bed to rest her head on the other pillow with a huff.

"Good." Harmony gave Blake a raised eyebrow, but didn't comment on her frustration; Blake hadn't messed up like that for a while, so Harmony had some sense of what might be going on in her head, even if they'd only known each other for a year. "All our intelligence says they're keeping the real thing in the safe still. Apparently, they haven't got anything else to keep it in. The Ghosts will be back," she added in warning; "and they'll know your tricks, so keep your head down and do your damn job _right_ this time."

"Jesus, Harmony, take the Cir-Tech stick out your ass."

"Sorry." Harmony turned back to her computer screen, going through the blueprints again. "Just repeating what Circe said. My head is on the block for this too, you know. And I really can't afford to get axed."


	3. Sourpuss

Blake dawdled in the entrance hall, admiring the glittering chandelier. She wasn't particularly looking forward to going inside. Considering it was only a week after the first mission, it was evidently set up to be a trap, and she knew that they knew that she knew that fact. Still, she had to take what she could get. She'd fucked up once – any more could compromise her. She either had to take a chance, or leave it alone and come back when they hosted the next inevitable event. She only hoped the Ghosts hadn't gotten any footage of her and connected the dots.

She smoothed her black mini dress nervously. Finally, she bit the bullet and strode into the ballroom. There were a surprising amount of people inside, making it quite hard to traverse the crowd. Blake made sure to smile and greet people, introducing herself to make her presence known. Too loud and she'd stand out; too quiet and she would be suspicious. She had to maintain a careful balance.

"Angelica?"

Blake turned and greeted Four with a smile.

"I didn't think you were going to make it," he commented, offering her his arm.

She took it, allowing herself to blush. She played it off as demure, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, but really her thoughts were filled with all the sinful things she wanted to do to him. For the first time in years, he'd really opened the floodgates of her imagination; having seen his body, and the way he could fight with it, sent her skin aflame.

He noticed her discomfort in the way her eyes flitted around the room and led her over to a more secluded alcove.

"You okay?" He asked, after surreptitiously checking they couldn't be overheard.

She stared at his face for a second before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his. He froze briefly before returning it with less urgency, coaxing her into a slower rhythm. Blake stepped in close, tilting her head further into him, getting lost in the taste and feel of the kiss.

Four gently pushed her away. "Hey... Not that it wasn't fuckin' awesome, but what's the rush?"

_The image of his snarl as he pinned her down, a simple black mask between them, flashed through her mind. She imagined how he might react to realising she was Chat Noire; he definitely wouldn't kiss her with such languidity, that was for sure. If this was her last chance, her last night here, she wanted to make it count._

"I just... I really want you," she breathed. 

"Well..." He leaned in, kissing the sensitive skin behind her ear. "There's a guest bedroom with our name on it for later," he suggested, his breath ghosting over her neck before he kissed it.

"How about now?"

The amused huff of air that escaped his nose tickled her neck before he kissed her ear again. "Fuck yeah. I can do now." He pulled back and took her hand, tugging her towards the doors, and she followed, a little unsteady but rather triumphant.

***

"Four! Billy! _Four_!" One shouted into the microphone. He slammed his palm on the desk and swivelled in his chair, checking on the tracker on his monitor. "Damnit, he's gone offline."

" _Probably sucking face with the woman he left with last time_ ," Seven grumbled over the comms.

" _I'm sure they had sex the evening of the mission_ ," Three said. " _He didn't get back to the hotel until the early hours_."

"Great. I'm fucking _glad_ Four's getting some pussy. But we need to get ourselves a _cat_!"

" _Or a dog_ ," Two said wearily.

" _We have a son-of-a-bitch right here_ -" Five growled.

" _Everyone calm down_ ," Three said into his comms. " _Five, can you find Four_?"

"And remind him to _do_ his fucking job," One added. "Not fuck _on_ the job. Got it?"

***

"Oh, oh, Ellis," Blake moaned, arching her back off the bed.

Four grinned and bit her nipple lightly. She wound her hands into his blond hair, smoothing over the shaved sides and tugging at the slicked-back strands. If there was a heaven, she decided, she was damned close to fucking her way there.

"Room service- oh!"

They paused and looked up, and Blake immediately stiffened as she saw the brunette woman that she had taken down the previous week, code name: Five. Five's curious eyes slid to Blake, but no glimmer of recognition came over her features. Blake thanked her lucky stars; she must have knocked the women out before Five could even register her face.

Blake let out a cry of indignation and Four moved to shield her body, leaving his own backside completely exposed.

"Shit! Are you kidding me? Do you not know how to knock?" He demanded, fumbling with the bedsheets to cover Blake and offer them a little privacy.

"Sorry, I'll go," Five said, backing away. "Um, dinner is being served downstairs shortly." She looked meaningfully at Four, and Blake instinctively held onto him a little tighter as he frowned conflictedly.

After Five left, Four placed a chaste kiss to Blake's lips. "I've got to go," he said. He inwardly cursed out Five for interrupting; he'd never been cockblocked so close to release, but he knew One was probably shitting himself. "My boss will be mad if I don't deliver... a _report_ , on this stupid meet. Later, maybe?"

"Meet me at eleven again?" Blake asked, looking at him with hooded eyes.

"Done." He climbed off of her and quickly pulled on his clothes, hopping to get his shoes back on. "I'll see you then."

The corners of Blake's lips curved as she watched him go, the outline of a handgun just barely showing in the waistband of his trousers. If he knew who she was, he'd probably bust a nut. As it was, she thought she might bust a figurative nut from not reaching completion.

Blake tapped her comms. "Harmony, come in. This place is swarming with Ghosts and plain-clothes police. I'll wait for the next one."

" _Copy that. Extraction?_ "

"No, I'll stay in the guest suite tonight, keep up appearances. Over and out."

Blake sighed, collapsing back onto the bed. It smelt faintly of him - sweat and cologne - and it was still warm.

She muttered a couple of curses to herself as she wandered her fingers to the juncture of her thighs. Now she'd called off the plan, she had another couple of hours before Four finished looking for Chat Noire - her. The irony of it wasn't lost on her, but while in any other situation it would please her, it mostly it left her frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

It was going to be a long wait.

***

Four sheepishly lowered his head as he got back into the ballroom. None of the other guests seemed to notice his arrival, engrossed as they were in their post-dinner conversation – and, he noted, quite drunk if the empty champagne glasses were anything to go by. He touched his hair, hoping that she hadn't messed it up too much when she had run her fingers through it.

"Your shirt's untucked," Five said behind him, patting down the cowlick on the top of his head.

He whipped around to face her, startled by her proximity. "What?"

"Nice ass, by the way." She winked at him and walked away, leaving him red in the face.

" _One's pissed_ ," Five warned over the comms, as an afterthought.

"And he should be." Four shifted, trying to get some relief in his trousers. "I'm a fucking moron and I'm _sorry_."

He made his way towards the drinks bar, taking a route straight through the centre of the configuration of round white-clothed dining tables. The appalled looks he received from the other guests for his obvious erection weren't anything he hadn't dealt with before – he had free-ran naked over the roofs and through the backstreets of London on more than one college dare, and he still had the newspaper clippings memorialising it. No, the _real_ punishment was the fact that he was still painfully hard – but damnit, it was his own fault for giving in to temptation. He supposed he deserved it.

" _I'm sorry you didn't get to finish things up with her,_ " Five said.

"It's fine, I'm just a little..."

" _Hey horn dog_ ," One said, " _can't you keep it in your pants for literally five fucking minutes while we look for this national security threat?"_

***

Blake felt Four's fast pulse under her cheek, the thud of his heart echoing in her ear, mirroring her own post-sex exhaustion. The warmth of his chest radiated against her where she was curled into his side. It felt safe, like when she would cuddle with her big brother during a storm.

"Was your boss very mad?" Blake asked quietly. She hadn't liked to ask earlier – not when he had texted her that he would meet her in her 'room' in Murat's building in the early hours of the morning after Murat's meet was over. Shed barely opened the door when he was touching her, and there had hardly been time to talk about it beforehand.

"He chewed me out," Four replied. "And said some choice words." He stroked a stray hair from her face. "Nothing I can't handle."

She tilted her head to look at him, rustling the sheets. He was staring at the ceiling, his fingers stroking over the top of her head.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault," she said. _If only he knew how true that was._

He tilted his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "It's _my_ fault. I decided to come up here with you."

"Still." she snuggled deeper into his side, taking the opportunity to inhale his comforting scent. "I take half the responsibility."

"Sounds fair. How long do you have this bedroom for?"

"Only the night. It's for guests who take too much advantage of the free alcohol."

"Well then." He petted her hair, wandering his fingers teasingly down to the swell of her chest. "We'd better make most of it, right?"


	4. Kitty Love

Blake needed a new plan. She and Four met on five occasions in the next two weeks. She didn't go so far as to label them as dates: they all consisted of dinner, a movie, and wild sex afterwards, at the hotel he claimed his freelance journalist agent had booked. She took some satisfaction knowing that he would owe a little more than the standard room rate, to pay for the mess they had made.

He was dangerous; she'd identified that from the start. Not for his Ghost status, not for his killer looks. No, he was dangerous because of his personality, and the fact that he occupied nearly her every waking thought - and all of her sleeping ones, too.

Additionally, he made her feel _happy_. She hated herself for it. It was a weak, manipulative feeling, but it felt so very good to let herself relax and do something physical that wasn't destructive and gave someone else pleasure, too. Sure, she had friends that made her content – her fellow agents she could label tentatively as friends, and she was always close to her operators... That is, for the few months she spent with them before they vanished without a word. Harmony was, perhaps, a good friend, though there were certain topics they were essentially barred from discussing – anything personal, like their pasts, were strictly out of bounds – which made conversations more like a dance around the truth than real, honest heart-to-hearts. She too would be replaced by another operator in due course, seemingly to Circe's whims; Blake knew that time was coming up fast, since Harmony had been the longest operator she had ever been paired with.

Though Blake couldn't talk about her real job with Four, she told him about how her parents had kicked out her brother just for being gay, and that she had followed him onto the streets. She told him how she'd worked her ass off to keep them afloat before her parents died and left her the noble title of Lady (a slight twist of the truth). And he'd listened, swore in all the right places, and distracted her afterwards.

In turn, he'd told her about his college years, streaking through the hallways and all the dumb things college kids did, because " _you shouldn't have missed out on an experience like that. It was good fun._ " And he told her about 'office tensions' with his co-workers and how he'd been estranged from his family for years, and how his current job had turned his life around after falling into a post-college-delinquent rut. And it made her feel a little more normal, a little less alone in her troubles.

"You look way too happy lately," Harmony commented, narrowing her eyes at Blake. "Like you've adopted a puppy."

Blake pouted. "I _wish_."

"So what is it, then? Have you met someone? Oh-" her eyes widened, "oh my _god_! You're _fucking_ someone, aren't you?"

The grin slid from Blake's face. "What? No, of course not, Harmony."

"You are," she accused. "You're practically glowing. Who is it? Some Turgistani hunk?" A sly smile spread over her lips. "...Does he have a sister I can get with?"

" _Harmony_ ," Blake groaned, chucking a pillow at her.

Harmony erupted in giggles and threw it back at her. "Now I know why you're drawing out the mission," she said, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "You want to keep it going as long as possible, right?"

Blake made a face. Was that why she was dragging her heels? Was that why she made the excuse not to go for it at the last meet? She chose not to answer.

"So can I meet him? Wait, you're keeping this no strings attached, right?" Harmony peered over at her. "Right?"

"I'm not stupid," Blake grumbled. "It doesn't mean anything. Just sex." _And dinner. And movies._

"Good. You know what Circe will do if she finds out there's feelings involved." Harmony dragged a finger over her neck, then snorted again. "She'll be bad enough if she finds out you're fucking someone."

"I know," Blake sighed. "Do I need to tell her?"

Harmony nodded. "Probably. But as far as I'm concerned, we never had this conversation."

Blake blinked at her, then felt her chest swell with emotion. "Thank you," she said, unable to come up with the words to tell her exactly how much that little bit of rule-bending meant to her.

Harmony gave her a two-fingered salute. "Anytime."

***

One left it a little while after doing his digging to question Four about his habits over the past two weeks. One didn't know if anyone else in the team had noticed, but he had to admit that Four had been looking happier - there'd been less squabbles as a result - which was the reason why he decided to poke his nose where it didn't belong in the first place. Really, he reasoned, he was allowed to pry; their lives belonged to him, now that they were his Ghosts. He had a right to know every detail. Especially if it was going to compromise the mission, like Four had done at the last meet. Now _that_ had been a _fantastic_ fuck-up.

Four was sat with one ankle casually crossed over his other knee, industriously shoving the last fries into his mouth. One had reluctantly moved himself into the lounge area of Murat's penthouse, his laptop balanced carefully on his lap, waiting for Four to finish eating before he dropped the bombshell. Five and Seven we're having a heated conversation about the best actors in some film they had watched recently, and One did his best to tune them out. Two and Three were in the kitchen, making themselves lunch.

Out of the corner of his eye, One saw Four flatten the empty cardboard box of the takeaway fries.

"Where were you last night?" One asked, not taking his eyes off of his screen.

Four glanced up from his food. "In town."

"Chatting up the ladies," Three grinned, clapping Four on the back in a congratulatory gesture before collapsing on the sofa with a sandwich.

One turned his head purposefully and gave Four a pointed look. "Or _a_ lady. As in, singular. You know I can see where you spend the money on that card, right?"

Four put the cardboard on the coffee table carefully. "So?"

"You rented the same suite, in the same hotel, five nights in the past two weeks."

"So I'm fooling around with some girls. What's it to you?"

"No, you're fooling around with _a_ girl. The receptionist was very clear about _that_." One drummed his fingers on the table, studying Four closely. "The one from Murat's meet, right?"

Four leaned forwards in his chair. "So? You said I could use that card whenever I wanted, for whatever I wanted."

"For material items, not your little bit on the side. I can't have you compromised like last time."

"I _told_ you it _won't_ happen again."

One nodded. "Of course not," he said breezily. He could tell he was going to need to do some needling before he threw the shit in the fan; sometimes, he really hated being the puppeteer of the group. "Do you know where this 'Angelica' is staying?"

Four blinked. "Somewhere in town, I guess."

"You don't know?" Two asked.

"She didn't say."

"So you never suggested going back to her place?" One pried, raising an eyebrow.

Four shrugged nonchalantly. "No. That's way too personal."

"And is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Personal."

Four scoffed. "Of course not."

"Good." One turned back to face the laptop screen and brought up a medical record, with a small picture in the upper left corner. He twisted it to face Four. "Because I've been doing some digging, and _this_ is Lady Angelica." He clicked the photo, bringing up the image of a middle-aged woman on the monitor.

Four stared at the screen in disbelief.

"So," One continued, "your girlfriend _literally_ does not exist. Or, she does, but she's fifty-two and currently recovering from a stroke – which, by the way, is suspected to be induced through electrical shock." One tapped his nose meaningfully. "With plenty of room for foul play."

Four shook his head and took a step back. "She wouldn't. She's not _like_ that."

"What?" One pressed his lips together with a shrug, his gaze calculating. "Not like a homicidal maniac who slits the throats of a whole submarine worth of trained special agents?"

"Woah, woah, hold it," Seven interrupted. He and Five had stopped their conversation as soon as Four had begun to raise his voice, and had been listening intently. "Don't assume too much. She'd have to be _very_ stupid if she got involved with the enemy like that."

"Or very clever," Two mused. "It's the best cover."

"No," Four protested. "She was inside the building the whole time for Murat's first meet. I went there later, and she was still there."

"Was she _still_ there? There was a window of time in which she could have returned back to Lady Angelica's assigned room on the fourteenth floor, which was, incidentally, on the same level as the broken window. So while you assumed 'Angelica'," One made a quote gesture in the air, "went back to her room, she was actually fighting _you_ in bullet-proofed spandex."

Four stepped back again, then turned and pulled at his hair. "No. You're wrong." He span around and pointed accusingly at One. "You're fucking _wrong_! I'll prove it, I'll ask."

"There's got to be a perfectly reasonable explanation," Five agreed. "She could be MI5 or something, just keeping tabs."

"By electrocuting someone?"

"No, but... maybe taking advantage of that situation." Five's voice lifted at the end, accentuating her uncertainty. Her suggestion was flimsy at best, and she knew it.

One frowned. "Angelica was wearing red, right? Seven, what was the colour dress Chat Noire was wearing? The first night?"

"Red. It was red."

"That doesn't prove anything," Three said, waving his sandwich. Two made a face as he wafted the mustard under her nose. "Half the women at the meet were wearing red."

"I recognise her." Two said slowly. "I think I saw her in the elevator going down to the floor with the safe. She was the one looking for her friend. The one I told you about, One."

"I'll fucking prove it to you." Four waved his burner phone at them. "I'm meeting her at three, and I'll _ask_. You can all listen, even."

"Great. But be prepared to have your heart broken again," One dismissed.

"You- what?" Four spun back to look at him, his lip curling in disbelief. "You think I would have fucking _feelings_ for her?" He punctuated each word with a shake of his fist, still gripping the phone like a lifeline. "After what my last girlfriend did to me? I don't do that dating shit anymore."

Two leaned back against Three. "It _would_ be pretty dumb."

"Says _you_!"

"I'm not going to have to leave Three in a week," she replied pointedly.

"We're Ghosts," Seven said quietly. "I'm all for fooling around, but... Feelings make the job difficult. They give you roots and weaknesses. Right, One?"

One considered Seven's words for a moment, a faraway look on his face. Before anyone could notice, he snapped back into focus and gave a curt nod. "...Right." He glanced up and smiled a little. "Go on, then. Run along and ask. We need to know. _You_ need to know."

Four looked between them all, a clear rift slicing them down the middle, and, finding no support, pushed his chair out with a screech. He paused to glare at Five, the one person he had been looking for back-up from, who had stayed silent throughout the whole conversation. When she avoided his gaze he turned and left, purposefully slamming the door behind him. None of the other Ghosts reacted to the sound except Two, who shot a disdainful look at the closed door.

One leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, surveying his team. "We follow him," he announced apathetically. "If she bolts, get her. Alive, preferably. We can interrogate her on who's pulling the strings."

"He's going to be devastated," Five warned.

"Of course he is. But it's puppy love. He'll get over it."

"Will he?"

"Sans pitié," Two muttered, as Three pressed a kiss to the top of her head.


	5. Cat's Out of the Bag

Blake met him at the cafe, just like he'd asked. Excitement coursed through her at seeing him again, It was the first time that he'd asked to meet during the day, and she couldn't help but wonder why, since going back to the hotel in the middle of the day wouldn't really be ideal. Was this a lunch date? The thought filled her with equal parts dread and confusion. She knew she _desperately_ needed to break it off before she did something she'd regret, or exposed herself – but next time. For today, she planned to just enjoy his company and a hot chocolate.

He was already there when she entered the cafe, sitting at a booth in the furthest corner from the door. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table.

"Hi, Ellis," she greeted, sliding into the seat opposite. "Have you ordered?"

"I did. Hope you don't mind hot chocolate."

Blake tried not to beam to widely. "It's perfect." They were silent for a few moments; his eyes searched her face and she fought the urge to squirm. "So... How's work?" 

He shrugged nonchalantly, breaking eye-contact. The movement seemed slightly... _guilty_. "The usual. I-I got a new lead on a story I'm quite interested in today."

"Really?" What's it about?"

He studied her carefully. "Identity theft. I'm really invested in preventing it."

Blake's stomach dropped. She leaned back, swallowed, smiled. "That's great."

"Yeah, it is."

He let it hang while the waitress gave them their cups, his gaze not leaving her face. Slowly, her hand went for the knife in her belt, while the other stirred the cream into her hot chocolate. She took a gulp, the scalding liquid more welcome than his accusatory glare.

"Come on," he said. "Who are you, really?"

Blake snorted, almost choking on her drink. She placed it down and collected herself before replying. "What do you mean? You _know_ who I am."

He leaned forwards, lowering his voice. "I know you're _not_ Angelica. She's currently in hospital after suffering a stroke. She's also fifty- _fucking_ -three years old."

Blake's mind whirred. "Ah. Well..." She made sure to keep eye contact. She smiled reassuringly. She let go of the knife and relaxed her posture. "Angelica wanted a representative, so she sent me," she said lamely. "But they wouldn't let me in if I didn't have an invite that corresponded to my name, so I just called myself Lady Angelica, and I had to keep up the charade. I'm sorry." she looked at him imploringly, placing her hand on the table between them.

His gaze flicked from her hand back to her face. He did not take her hand. "So who are you?"

Blake cocked her head with a small smile. "I'm her niece."

"Oh..." he nodded, as if it all made sense. "Right." He leaned back, stretched, and revealed the handle of a handgun under his jacket. He raised an eyebrow. "You know, that's pretty fucking funny, since Angelica is an only child."

Blake's eyes widened. _Shit_.

Her knees collided with the table, kicking it up and splashing him with his scalding drink. His yell of pain and shock followed her as she slid out of her seat. She dodged his grasping hands, vaulted a table, and skidded onto the street. People screamed, yelled, ducked for cover as he followed her.

"Wait!" He shouted. "Just tell me the truth!"

Blake looked desperately at the buildings, but after a moment's thought realised escape would be impossible once she was in his element; she might be good at free-running, but Four was excellent, as he so graciously demonstrated when he had caught her before. Not to mention, she'd be more exposed up there, putting herself in an easy line of fire for Seven, their sniper.

Four had evidently come into the café with a plan: a plan to pull the truth out of her in a public place, somewhere he didn't think she could escape without making a scene. She had to use that against him; that meant he wouldn't want to make any more of a scene than they already had.

She rooted through her pockets as her feet hit the road, dodging a mother pushing a twin pram along the pavement. Her fingers found the thin plastic ridges of a zip-lock tie, and she quickly formed a plan.

Blake span to face him as he caught up with her, the zip-lock tie hidden in her fist.

"Thank you. For stopping," he added, slowing to a jog before stopping directly in front of her, exactly where she wanted him. She allowed herself a brief glance over his shoulder. "Can you just tell me the truth now?" His eyes flitted over her face. "Are you MI5 or something? I promise I can keep it a secret. I'll-"

"Stop talking," she breathed, and kissed him hard, backing him into a lamp post.

He responded heartily, and she caught both of his hands, pinning them behind him.

Blake pulled back. "Sorry," she said.

He realised what she'd done and glowered, tugging furiously at the zip-lock tie she had attached his wrists to the post with. "What the fuck?"

She had to cut it clean. "I can't do this anymore. I can't _use_ you."

"Please," he implored, "what the _fuck_ is going on?" He rotated his wrists, trying the tie for weaknesses. "I don't understand."

"I can't keep using you," she repeated, reaching out to touch his cheek. He stared back at her with wide eyes. "I never cared about you. I'm only allowed to have sex with my targets." She swallowed thickly, schooled my expression into a cold mask. "So I take what I can get. You were the perfect disguise. _I'm_ the Chat Noire."

She wrenched her hand away from his face, averting her eyes even as she sneered. "Don't call me again, _Four._ "


	6. Mouse Trap

"I have her in my sights. Say the word and I'll blow her knee," Seven said into his comms.

"I'm ready to intercept," Two said.

"Van's in position, and Five's got the morphine," Three added.

One sighed. He remotely disabled Four's comms and watched the girl pushing through the crowds. "Stand down."

"Stand down?" Seven demanded, taking his finger off the trigger. "What the fuck? Are you _shitting_ me? She's literally in my crosshairs-"

"I said _stand down_. She'll be back. Three, go get Four. Get him some fucking alcohol and sleeping pills."

"That's unwise," Five commented.

"Is it?" One asked evenly. "I need him out of the equation for a while. He's no good if he's emotional. Two and Seven, we're getting our arses to Murat's."

"Why?"

"I think she'll try again."

"How do you know?"

One smiled and replayed the recording. ' _I can't keep using you,'_ she said, her voice trembling.

"I guess I'm just a prophet. Get your arses over here quick-smart, we're about to bag ourselves a cat."

***

Blake didn't bother donning her suit, but she did wear her mask - at least, she did after she got past Murat's security in the entrance hall with an excuse that 'Lady Angelica' had forgotten something in her room and had come to collect. They'd been hesitant at first, but after patting her down and seeing her invite to the last meet they grudgingly let her through. Harmony had been keeping tabs on the Ghosts and they were currently all on the upper floors – she wanted to minimise her chances of running into any of them at all costs. _Really_ , she thought, _I could have done this before. I didn't think they would be so lax with security._

Blake was trembling. She just needed to get it done, at whatever cost, so she could get the hell out of Turgistan and never come back. She would get the case, deliver it to Circe, and draw a line in thick red pen underneath the whole affair. It meant nothing. It _all_ meant nothing. She could forget those wretched green eyes staring back at her in utter disbelief, forget the way his warm body moved against hers, the sweet nothings he'd whispered. It meant _nothing_ ; especially to her. At least, that was what she had to keep telling herself.

It was almost too easy getting back to the safe. She used the decoder and it opened like magic. Stepping inside, she looked around for traps and opened the case, just to check it wasn't another fake. It certainly looked like what she had expected to see.

The slam of metal startled her. She turned, briefcase in hand, to find the safe door shut tight.

"Harmony! What's going on?" Blake demanded, touching her comms.

" _I'm reading high levels of magnetism_ ," Harmony replied, her voice crackling, the radio waves interrupted by the magnetic field. " _Ghosts descending. Circe says double-agent protocol. Good luck._ "

Her comms died and Blake threw it away from herself just before a mini explosion was set off inside, rendering it useless and, most importantly, unhackable.

Outside, she heard murmured voices. Moving to the wall beside the door just in case they decided to open it up and gun her down, she opened the case back up and hovered her hand over it.

"I'll press the button!" She threatened loudly.

"It's fake," a male voice said on the other side of the door.

" _Fuck_."

"Alright. Are you ready to show your hands?"

"No!" She yelled. " _Casse-toi! Dégage! Va vous faire enculer, dégénéré fils de pute!_ "

***

"I wish people would stop speaking to me in other languages! I'm fucking _English_!" One shouted through the door. "No _comprendo_!"

"That's Spanish," Three supplied. "You really need to learn a new language, One."

"That's what you guys are for," One said. "Why do you think I recruited so many bilinguals?" He turned to Two. "What did she say?"

"She told you to go fuck yourself," Two translated with a raised eyebrow.

One jabbed his thumb at the door. "Billy picked a real fucking winner then, didn't he?"

Two rolled her eyes. "We're leaving," she said loudly, so that Chat Noire could hear. "We'll come back when you've cooled off, _ma amie_." She turned around and made a shooing motion at the two men, and said: "Let's go."

Three frowned. "We can't leave her in there. What if she escapes?"

"The electromagnet I fitted to the door is wired into the main electricity system," One explained. "It doesn't turn off unless I press the button on my phone. Two's right, I think she'll be fine for a few hours. It gives me time to do some extra digging."

***

Five approached the closed door of One's room and knocked. "Hey, One?" There was no answer. She knocked again, louder this time. "I've got biscuits."

"What? Yeah, come in."

Five entered cautiously, her eyes scanning the three screens in front of him. She placed the plate of cookies in front of him and gestured to the screen on the left, which showed a scanned copy of a profile. "You got lucky?"

"She forgot to take the maker's sticker off the decoding-machine she used on the safe," he replied absently. "I can hack anything if I know where to look."

"So what's her deal?" Five peered over his shoulder at the screen. "Anything juicy?"

"Hm... What?"

"I said, what did you find out?" She said with an eye roll.

"Right. Well, from what I can gather, this Cir-Tech organisation currently has her brother on life support."

Five's brow furrowed. "Wow. Willingly, or...?"

"Can't say. But it's a fucking good blackmail opportunity."

"So... What's our next move?"

He shrugged and span his chair. "I interrogate her, make some threats, decide if she's Eight material."

Eyes widening, Five shook her head in dismay. " _Eight_? Just like that?"

He got up. "Yep. Just like that."


	7. Tabby or Not Tabby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In bold = in French.

It was unbelievably cold in the safe. Blake curled herself up in the furthest corner from the door, periodically rubbing her arms. She shot a filthy look at the air conditioning grid. It was too small to fit through, and she thought the cool air blasting through was just adding insult to injury.

She hoped Harmony was okay. Circe liked to punish failure, and she wasn't sure whether Circe would count it as Blake's failure or Harmony's for not detecting the electromagnet before she entered the safe. At least, that's what she assumed it was; the seam of the safe door let out a faint hum of electricity.

They left her there for a couple of hours, and despite the cold she was almost asleep when the door opened. A man she didn't recognise entered, and the door shut behind him. The low-voltage yellow lights in the ceiling cut him an intimidating figure.

"Alright. I have a pair of pliers and I'm not afraid to use them on your toes," he threatened, walking closer. She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me everything you know about the organisation you work for."

She stared up at him blankly, jaw clenched tight. She considered her options carefully. She wasn't entirely sure what they intended to do with her, but she expected they would try to get information out of her.

He hit the pliers into his palm.

"I'm not telling you anything," she replied evenly, fighting to hold on to her neutral mask. She hoped he couldn't see the tear-tracks in the low light.

He nodded and put the pliers in his pocket. "I don't want to hurt you, so let's try again. What if I told you I could get your brother out of Cir-Tech, and cure him?"

She startled, almost hitting her head back against the wall as she looked up at him. "How do you know about that?" she demanded.

He shrugged easily and leaned against the podium in the centre of the room. The briefcase laid discarded on the other side of the safe. She hadn't the guts to press the button to test their word; she didn't want to accidentally blow herself up.

"I'm a billionaire," he explained. "I've got eyes and ears and pathways you couldn't dream of. I can _help_ you, Blake. _We_ can help you." He flashed her a winning smile.

"I'm not afraid of torture," she informed him, folding her arms.

"I know. Both physical, and mental, apparently." He tilted his head, a gesture of sympathy. "I've seen your records."

 _Shit._ She squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to repress the feelings that fought to resurface. "Then you know this is useless," she said. She twisted her hands in her lap, out of his sight.

He pushed off of the podium and squatted down so that he was on her level. "I can hand you freedom on a silver platter," he said, his voice soothing. "All you need to do is open up."

He wasn't the first to offer, and he wouldn't be the last to be incapable of following through.

"...Circe's Angels."

He blinked, confused. "What?"

"The boss. She calls herself Circe, and we're her Angels. She collects letters. I'm B."

"Who's A?"

"Dead." she let out a deep breath and shut her eyes. "She tried to kill Circe and I stuck a pencil through her heart." There had been so much blood. She had stuck her like a pig, stabbing her five, ten, twenty times before Blake had collapsed next to her corpse. Circe had Blake drag the body to the crematorium afterwards, the girl's head and hair dragging limply in the mud.

"Remind me never to let you near stationery," he said ironically. She opened her eyes to see his lip curling in distaste.

 _More_. She needed to pour her heart out to gain his trust. "My brother and I used to work in the circus. Not the acts, just the help, but we picked things up. Like how to pick watches and jewellery for the circus-master," she elaborated. "I spent two years training under Circe before I started. I..." She trailed off, swallowed, and gave a weak smile. "I don't like to look at their faces."

"I understand." He made a move as if to pat her knee, but thought better of it and drew back his hand. Wise man; she would have plied off his middle fingers.

"She's fucked you over, more than just physically," he said sympathetically. "We need to stop her. What does she want?"

"I don't know." Blake lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. "There doesn't seem to be any reason to my missions. Just chaos and shock-factor."

"Attention-seeking bitch seems to describe her nicely." He joked, moving from a squat to sit on the floor with his knees to his chest. "Alright. Anything else?"

"My operator is currently Harmony. _H_. She's staying back at the hotel, but she probably fled when she was captured. I've only been with a Harmony for a year."

He nodded. "And what about C to G?"

Shrugging, she averted her gaze. "I don't know. I do know there's two more people in the hospital wing, though."

"So at least two more agents," he mused.

"Circe's richer than belief." she warned. "And she has technology you couldn't dream of."

"I know, I've been analysing it," he admitted, bobbing his head. "I'll bet she employs more than a few innovators for big fucking bucks."

They were interrupted by her stomach growling. She hadn't eaten since breakfast; she had expected to have lunch at the cafe, with-

"You hungry?"

She was surprised by his question, and took a few moments to nod cautiously. "Starving."

"Come on, then. I'll get Five to rustle you up something."

He stood and held out his hand. She eyed it dubiously.

"Are you sure?" She scrunched her nose.

"I don't think it's wise to look a gift horse in the mouth, since I've just promised to free your brother. Are you coming, or not?"

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"You can call me One, by the way," he said. He pressed a button on his phone and the safe door swung open.

"Yeah, I know."

He glanced back at her as she stepped out of the safe behind him. "You do?"

"It was in the briefing. Do you collect numbers like Circe collects letters?"

"Something like that," he agreed. "At least you answered my next question."

She fell into step beside him as they made their way to the lift. "What was it?"

He looked askance at her. His pace was unfaltering as they walked down the corridor towards the lift. "If you knew who Four was before you started dating him."

She pursed her lips and did not reply.

Blake turned the question over in her mind as he called the lift down. He stared ahead as it began to move, but the silence was deafening, stifling her, pressuring her to speak, inviting her to defend herself.

"It wasn't like that," she finally relented. "We've only been on a few dates, and that's it."

"A few _dates_ ," he repeated.

"Yes, but it doesn't count." she insisted, emphasising the last word with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Did you know sex is the fastest way to someone's heart?" He asked in a conversational tone. He turned his head to her and smiled. "A physical dependence becomes an emotional connection faster than you might think, especially if repeated."

She shook her head with a disgusted expression. "Yeah, _no_. I'm not talking sex with you."

"I'm not trying to fuck you, Kit-Cat. Just seeing what makes you tick."

She turned to face him sharply. "Try a dissecting fucking _watch_ _movement_ next time, you'll get better results," she snapped. "I am not a clock. I do not _tick_."

He chuckled. "You're not doing much for your case."

"Just stay the fuck out of my personal life."

"Personal?"

"Zip it," she snarled. "For your information, it meant nothing. None of it did."

A smug grin adorned his face. "Sure."

They stayed in silence even when the doors opened, and then stepped out into the penthouse suite.

It was huge. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a magnificent view over the city. Modern furnishings in steel and black leather decorated the place, along with carefully selected art instillations. The whole setup screamed money, but in the most elegant way possible.

She scanned the room's inhabitants with keen eyes. Two women - one of whom was the one who had walked in while she was having sex with... with _Four -_ and two men, neither of which _was_ Four. She wasn't quite sure if she was more relieved or disappointed.

"Guys-" One began, "and girls- ladies- women," he said quickly, cringing a little under the blonde woman's glare, "I'd like to introduce you to Blake."

They stared at her for a moment before a man stood and held out his hand to shake hers. "You're shorter than I imagined," he commented.

She shook his hand firmly. "Um, thanks...?"

"Three," he supplied with a smile.

They introduced themselves with varying degrees of friendliness. Curiously, the brunette was especially welcoming, surprising after she'd basically seen Blake fully nude. Blake wasn't much of a prude, but it was always odd to pretend someone hadn't seen you literally laid bare.

"Right," One said, once the introductions were over. "I'm sure someone can rustle you up some food if you want some. I-"

"Hey, One, can I have a word?" Five said. "In private?"

"Right now?"

"Right now," Five echoed, looking pointedly at the door.

"So, what do you want to eat?" Three asked Blake, as One and Five went to another room.

"Oh, it's fine, I can-" she started.

Three waved his hand. "No problem. You like spicy, Blake?"

"Yeah."

" **Not in your choice of men,** " Two muttered.

 **"I can hear you, you know,"** she growled, glaring at her.

She returned her glare unblinkingly. **"I know. Don't hurt him any more than you already have. I'm watching you."**

**"I don't plan on it."**

"Nice of you ladies to keep us in the loop," Seven said with a raised eyebrow.

Blake smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just so nice to be able to speak to someone in my mother tongue."


	8. Not Feline It

"Hey, One, can I have a word?" Five asked. "In private?"

"Sure."

He followed her back into his private workroom. "What's up?"

Five pointed at the screen, where Blake's brother's file was displayed. "I did some reading into her brother's file. They've listed his illness as some kind of rare genetic disorder."

One's brows twitched together. "So Blake could have it too?"

"That's not what I mean." Five clicked another file and brought the two up side-by-side. "The symptoms sound exactly like simple belladonna poisoning."

"Shit." He sat down and started scanning the file. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Which points to Cir-Tech organising a mass blackmail operation." Five leaned over One and clicked into the other files that One had found and documented. "There's at least five other patients listed in the last five years, but three of those are labelled dead. All showed the same symptoms."

"This is great," One grinned.

Five frowned, not expecting a positive reaction to the news.

"You, my friend, are a fucking genius," he continued, "I bet they didn't expect us to figure that out when they leaked those files!"

"Leaked files?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." He nodded and rolled his eyes skyward. "You think a company that makes bullet-proof silk would be easy to hack? I'm flattered you think I'm that good, but those files were way too easy to find on such short notice."

"So she's a double-agent," Five surmised.

"Very likely," he agreed. "But it's the perfect disguise. They'll never expect her to turn back on them. We can use this to our advantage."

"And if she turns back on us?"

"Well, I'm going to offer her the world on a silver platter, so she'd better not fuck us over."

***

It had been a week since Blake had been locked in the safe and she had spent the majority of it sitting around with the other Ghosts, watching movies and waiting for Cir-Tech to make their move.

"Yes!" Five rolled a double six on the dice and grinned. "Get me out of jail, will you, Blake?"

Blake smiled and moved her piece for her. "Does that mean I'm forgiven for the Birthday Tax Card?"

"Not until you land on my hotel," Five countered. "I want my fifty pounds back!"

"Don't hog the dice," One pouted. Five passed them to him and he rolled a three, coming to rest on the Tax £200 spot. "Come on! _Seriously_? I was winning!"

One passed the die to Blake and she rolled. Her piece landed on One's house and she grudgingly handed him the rent.

"That's it, I'm out," she said, throwing up her hands.

"Eight down, five to go," Three mused with a faint grin, as he carefully counted his own money.

"Good luck with the rest of the game." Blake said, getting to her feet. "I'm going to head to bed and try get a good night's sleep."

"'Aight, see you," Seven said, glancing up briefly before going back to counting his game money.

"Good night," Five nodded.

Three rolled the dice and made sure Blake was gone before he spoke. "She's got some spirit, that kid, I'll tell you that."

One had sent Four away to gather intelligence on a company he 'suspected may be linked'. It wasn't in any way, but he needed the two of them separated. As yet, Four had no idea Blake was currently using their spare bedroom, and Blake hadn't asked where Four was, so One was more than happy with the arrangement.

"She's hardly a kid, Javier," Five replied, not looking up from shuffling her property cards. "She may be half your age, but she's still an adult."

"I still wonder how she got so good," Seven mused.

"I wouldn't pry." One shook his head as he sipped his beer. "She's very private."

"So, the polar opposite of our Billy."

"Let's not go into that."

"Why not? Because you sent him away on a wild goose chase?" Five asked.

"The situation is volatile. It's easier this way. And it distracts him."

"Why are we even keeping her here?" Seven said, leaning forwards and lowering his voice. "She's clearly upsetting the balance, and for all intents and purposes she's a proven psychopath, surely. I don't know about you all, but I've been sleeping with one eye open all week. It's starting to take a toll, y' know?"

No one replied, until Three shrugged and poured the last drops of beer into his mouth. "You've got to feel bad for her. I'd do the same thing if my mama was dying."

"Would you?"

"Every time."

"Even if you had to hurt Camille?"

Three paused. "If I had to?" He asked carefully. "Yes. Surely the life is worth more."

"True that," One nodded, a far-away look in his eyes. "You put the ones you love in the least danger possible. Even if it fucking hurts."

"Camille?" Seven asked with an incredulous glance at the blonde.

Two shrugged. " I know he loves his ma; I wouldn't mind if he hurt me... But what she did to Billy was unnecessary."

"See? It was a complete dick move she pulled," Seven appealed, sitting back in mild triumph.

Five grinned. "Hey, don't go big brother mode on us, Blaine."

"I'm just saying." He rolled his eyes when he saw her expression. "Wish I hadn't opened my trap now."

Two shrugged. "I'm done with the game. I'm going to take advantage of the facilities and use the hot tub. Javier?"

Rising to his feet, Three nodded. "Yeah, I'll come."

"Make sure you clean it after!" One called after them. "And don't get water all over my fucking deck!"

"Aw, I really wanted to use that later," Five said.

One pulled a face. "I wouldn't risk it."

"They've been going at it like rabbits ever since we got here," Seven pointed out, counting out his game money.

"I don't care as long as they use protection."

"They'll be fine. She's got enough sense for the both of them," Five dismissed. She looked forlornly at the game board. "I guess we'd better count our money and find the winner."


	9. Telling Tails

Blake tried her best to be friendly, but frankly, the presence of so many people in a relatively small space was making her uncomfortable – for the penthouse, while it was large, was open-plan, and the other Ghosts took advantage of that by talking across the room. She tended to skirt the edges and keep to her own room, but always forced herself to accept when Five asked her to come and play board games each evening. After all, she had to try to earn their trust somehow, and she wasn't going to by becoming a hermit (however tempting it may sound).

Three was also a great help, in his ways. The Ghosts were meant to have a rota for cooking nights, but on all but two nights out of the ten Blake had spent at the penthouse. Three had ended up cooking, which no one minded – he was the best cook of them all. Often, he roped Blake into the kitchen when she tried to slink in and out for a drink, and she ended up being his sous chef until Two came in and intimidated Blake away with that unblinking, icy stare of hers.

Blake had discovered on her first night that the rooftop was easily accessed by the window of her room. By twisting out of the window, she could wedge her fingers into the gaps between the flat planes of glass and reach up to the ledge, pulling herself over the edge of the roof without having to go through the main living area. She made sure to stay away from the skylights and the edge that overlooked the small garden and pool in case the Ghosts spotted her and banned her little taste of freedom, instead preferring to dangle her legs and watch the skyline.

As an added bonus, she would be fully visible to any onlookers. If ever Circe wanted to get a message to her, a drone could easily be driven to the roof. She made sure to spend a good hour there each day, but there was no communication in the two weeks she had been there, and it made her restless. Still, it gave her plenty of time to work out how to integrate herself into the team before Circe started putting cogs in motion for her plan.

"I thought you were in your room."

Blake startled at the voice, twisting her torso to look at Seven. His stance was casual, his shifting gaze wary. He smiled anyway.

"Nice view," he commented, approaching her. She didn't think he'd go so far as to push her off the edge, but she gripped the metal rim just in case.

"Stunning," she agreed.

"Mind if I join?"

Blake shook her head. "Feel free."

Seven crouched down and lowered his feet over until he too was perched on the edge. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the cars below and the stars above.

Seven exhaled heavily and leaned back on his hands. "Eight, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Blake frowned, glancing askance at him. "I suppose it depends on what it is," she replied cagily.

"How did you get here? To this point?"

Blake turned her head to look at him fully. He raised a curious eyebrow.

"You want my life story?" She surmised, narrowing her eyes.

Seven nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I don't know much about you, really. I'll return the favour if you want," he offered.

Seven, along with Two, were the most suspicious about her, mostly giving her a wide berth and avoiding initiating conversation. Had she just been handed a golden opportunity - on a silver platter - to earn Seven's trust?

She rolled it over in her mind, and decided the beginning would be the best place to start. She wasn't quite sure how much Circe had leaked – she hadn't seen the file, perhaps purposefully on One's part, so she knew she had to be as truthful as possible.

"I was born into a wealthy family," Blake began, staring back out over the cityscape. "We never wanted for anything, not me or my little brother. He came out as gay when he turned fifteen. My parents cut him off, turned him out..." she trailed off.

"And you followed?" Seven guessed.

Blake swallowed thickly and began to swing her legs, the childish motion bringing her a little much-needed comfort. "Yeah. I worked a few jobs to support us while he was at school, but it wasn't much. An eighteen-year-old with no work experience and no Uni degree... You can't afford to rent anywhere that isn't a health hazard." She laughed awkwardly at her little joke, but Seven didn't join in. "Once he finished school - it was so cliché - we literally joined the circus. I had experience in dressage, so they trained me on the horses. Josh - my brother - worked on the manual stuff, like moving the tents and props."

"So how'd you get to work under Circe?" Seven questioned. "You must've started training at least... at least six years ago, to start taking jobs three years ago, right?"

"I started taking jobs four years ago," she corrected with a rueful sigh. "There's a few I haven't claimed for Le Chat."

"Only two years of training?"

"Yeah. One of Circe's talent spotters approached us both, said they were a government-linked agency. They said they wanted to train us both for the special forces." She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "They didn't give many details, but the food and lodgings were included, so we jumped on it. Minimal pay, long training hours..." Blake trailed off and took a deep breath. "Josh got sick six weeks into training," she explained, oddly detachedly. "They rushed him to the on-site doctor, and he diagnosed him with a genetic disease. He didn't say what it was, but he said there wasn't any cure. Luckily, I didn't have it. Circe approached me personally that night. She said she could keep him on life support indefinitely, while they looked for a cure. But..."

She gripped the ledge tight, as if she might topple from the weight of the memories she was unearthing.

Seven placed a hand on her knee, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Hey, you don't have to keep going if you don't want to," he said gently.

"No, no, I need to tell someone. If that's ok?" She looked at him hopefully, and when he didn't answer she then frowned and stared down at her lap. "Sorry I don't want to overload you. I'm boring you. I-"

"You're not boring me, Blake, please," Seven said hurriedly. "If it helps you, keep going."

"Sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. Well, she said my salary in her special forces squad wouldn't cover the medical bills, with all the money she'd be paying for research. She said there was a higher-paying role, less government-driven and more privatised. More intense, but more lucrative." Blake gestured to punctuate each 'more'. "She said she would pay all my expenses, but I would forfeit my salary. I didn't realise what I was getting into until they started the higher training."

"You didn't know what they were training you for?" Seven asked incredulously.

"No I didn't ask questions. I wasn't allowed," she added. "But I had ideas. I did eventually figure out that they were training me as an assassin, and I confronted her about it. She was so angry, I..." Blake trailed off, suppressing the wince but not the shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself as she swung her legs with more force. "Circe said we were working for the good of the world and that should be enough for me. I didn't ever ask any questions after that."

"So here you are," Seven said quietly.

"Here I am," she agreed.

"Didn't you ever find it weird she named herself after a misandrist?" Seven asked, after a moment of thought. "And had no male agents?"

Blake glanced sidelong at him. "She prefers women because our targets are mostly men," she explained. "We weren't _just_ trained to shoot. Using your body to its full potential is just as important."

Seven shot her an intense look. "You used any of those moves on Four?" His posture, again, was casual, but his words were terse. Seven, it seemed, had great control over most of his body, but couldn't act to save his life with his voice or his eyes. _The polar opposite of me_ , Blake mused.

"I did use some, at the start. Just a bit. Less now," she added as an afterthought. "It's nice to feel wanted for being me, without having to act."

Seven observed her carefully. "You haven't got many friends, have you?"

"I've got friends," she said defensively, an insulted frown creasing her forehead.

"Your operator?" He guessed.

"Yeah. We've been working together for almost a year."

"Okay, so that's _one_."

"I'm... I'm friends with some of the other agents, too," she added, wracking her brain for anyone else.

"And how often do you see them?"

"Not often." The words came out snappier than she intended; Seven held up his hands in defence.

"Hey, chill. I was only asking," he said.

She sighed heavily and stopped swinging her legs, letting her arms fall and gathering her hands into a nervous knot in her lap. "I know. Sorry, I-"

"S'okay, Eight- I mean, _Blake_ ," Seven corrected. "I get it."

"Get what?"

"The loneliness." He paused, taking a moment to breathe deeply and focus his attention on the skyline. "When I was on Delta, the only people I came into contact with for a long while was my team. We were real close, but... A mission went wrong, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

Seven flicked his gaze to hers and shrugged. "Nothing you could do. I was in a bad way when One showed up. I shut myself off. Coming onto another team, it did me a load of good." He nudged her elbow with a smile. "I think it could do that for you, too, if you let it."

Blake stared down at the people milling around on the street below them. "You think?"

"Yeah," Seven said. "Like this little chat today? That's called 'opening up'."

"Seven..." Blake said warningly, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Sorry, had to lighten the mood." He got up and stretched, then looked down at her, gesturing back towards the open hatch she hadn't seen before. "You coming?"

Swinging herself down through the hatch into the storage room was a lot easier than climbing precariously through her bedroom window. Seven exited first, then gave her the all-clear for sneaking out; " _your secret hide-out is safe with me_ ," he had said.

"You want a coffee?" he asked, when they got back into the deserted living area.

Blake shook her head, glancing at the clock on the wall – it was later than she had thought. "I'm good, thanks. Doesn't help me sleep."

"Fair enough. Tea, then?"

She nodded and smiled. "That would be _perfect_ , thank you."

He made a move towards the kitchen, then glanced back with a questioning tilt of his head. "Sugar?"

"Just one."

Five wandered into the living area, squinting slightly when she saw the two of them. "What're you guys doing?"

"Coffee," Seven answered simply. "Do you want some?"

"I'd love some," Five agreed. She leaned against the doorframe while Seven filled the kettle, and scrutinised Blake. "How's your... pains?" she asked in a low voice.

"Clearing up actually," Blake replied. "The hot water bottle worked wonders last night, thank you."

"It always works for me, I can't believe you hadn't tried it sooner," Five commented amiably.

Seven, who had been spooning instant coffee into the mugs, paused. "Women problems?" He asked tentatively, a little bemused.

"Yeah," Five said with a grin. "You gonna be nosy, or are you gonna get me that coffee?"


	10. A Claw-ful Reunion

It was late the next evening when the lift dinged, announcing a visitor.

They exchanged glances and simultaneously reached for and unholstered their weapons. They weren't expecting guests, and everyone was either present or accounted for.

Three crept forwards and jerked his head at Two. "Watch my back," he mouthed.

Blake took cover behind a steel support beam, ready to jump out and surprise any unwelcome visitor. This could be her chance to prove her loyalty to them; she couldn't screw up. A stray bullet could shatter the image she had been building up over the last week -Two still didn't like her much, but Seven was slowly warming to her and One, Three, and Five were practically in her back pocket. Winning over three out of six wasn't a bad accomplishment.

The others got into position; all guns ready to fire. One had his finger poised over his phone, ready to magnetise... _Something_ , she assumed, that might help them in an emergency.

The doors dinged and she hid behind the column, waiting for the Ghosts' gunfire so she knew if the visitor was friend or foe.

There was a moment of pause where Blake was very tempted to peer out. She kept her hands firmly clasped around the handle of her gun and held her position.

After what felt like a millennium, someone spoke.

"Four?" Five asked unsurely.

She heard a muttered curse from Three, plus footsteps.

"Here, come and sit down."

"Holy shit, he stinks of fucking booze," One complained.

Blake took a sneak peek from behind the column, but she could only see the back of Four's head over the sofa, unkempt dark blond hair pointing every which way as if he hadn't brushed it in a while.

"You lied," came the slurred accusation towards One. "I found you out. No link to Cir-Tech at all."

"Well, thank you for telling me-"

"You fuckin' knew anyways, didn't ya?"

Blake bit the inside of her cheek, calculating how to get back to her room - the door to which was right in Four's line of view - in the best and fastest way. A drunk and accusatory Four was not a good cocktail mix, especially with guns in the room.

"Five, can you get the sleeping pills from the cupboard?" One asked quietly.

"No!" Four got to his feet and swayed, pointing at One. "No more drugs. I don't want drugs. Or alcohol."

"You've definitely had enough alcohol," Three agreed. "Go to bed, Four. Sleep it off."

"No, no I need to catch... Angelica. The Cat. I let her go. _Twice_ ," Four complained, a slight wail catching the last syllable. "I'll catch her for you, and you can interrog-"

Seven placed a heavy hand on Four's shoulder. "No, Four, you're staying here. We have it under control."

"Control? She's out there! Like the backstabbing bitch who took the _Kalahari_...!"

"Bed, now, you moron," One said. "I don't want to have to treat you like a little kid and get Three to carry you."

Three made a face. "Why me?"

"I'm not going to risk him chucking up all over me!"

Four wrinkled his nose, then, frowning, seemed to realise just who would be doing the throwing up. He swayed a little on his feet. "'Lright, I'm going. But we're talking in the mornin'!" He poked a finger at One who just chuckled and batted him away, urging him good-naturedly to " _go to bed, already_."

Four turned faster than she expected and caught sight of her watching from behind the pillar. She pressed herself back against it, but the damage was already done.

"There! She's there! Two, _get_ her!"

"She's not there, Four," Five cooed gently, casting a wary glace to ensure Blake was properly hidden once again. "You've had a lot to drink. You're probably hallucinating."

"No! She was right there, behind that pillar," Four insisted. He turned to Two, begging, knowing she was the only one who might pay attention to him instead of coddling him like Five. "Two, go look? Please?"

Blake kept herself flat against the pillar and shook her head frantically as Two came around the other side. Two got the hint and made a show of looking.

"Nothing," she said.

"Bitch," he said loudly. "More of a fuckin' ghost than any of us..."

"How ironic-" One began to say.

Seven growled: "Don't you dare," and One promptly shut up.

"Come on, Four. We'll talk in the morning."

***

The next day, Blake tried to creep into the kitchen to grab breakfast before Four woke. To her horror, he was already at the breakfast bar, dressed in grey sweats and nursing a large glass of water, evidently _very_ hungover.

His eyes widened when he saw her, and his hand went to where his holster would be, had he been wearing one. God knew he was shit at hand-to-hand combat, and without a gun or somewhere to run, he was helpless. He quickly took inventory of exits.

She noticed his darting eyes and stuck her hands in the air, hoping it would calm him, but the sudden movement had him setting down the glass more forcefully than necessary in surprise. They stared at each other for a moment, still and silent.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He blurted, giving her a top-to-toe once over. Embarrassingly, she was wearing the hideously oversized Betty Boop pyjamas that One had provided her with, having had no clothes except those on her back when One had initially 'captured' her.

"One asked me to stay," Blake explained tentatively, lowering her head submissively.

"What? Are you fucking _serious_?"

She started to walk slowly towards the breakfast bar. "Yeah."

Circe's voice echoed in her head: _Body language, darling, is the key. You can evoke trust, fear, devotion, with a series of movements. You could command a whole room with your body, if you so desired..._

Blake looked askance at him. "Apparently, I'm Eight."

Realisation flashed in his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut. " _That's_ why he sent me off on a wild goose chase."

"I guess. He didn't tell me that."

He cut his eyes to hers sharply. "And you didn't ask?" He questioned.

"No."

They were silent for a minute, and Blake took the opportunity to slot a slice of bread in the toaster. She wasn't quite sure she would have the nerve to re-emerge for food once she got back to her room. She might have to start hoarding.

"I can't believe you'd do that to me," he said.

She turned to face him. A pained grimace was set over his mouth, his brow furrowed discontentedly.

"I'm sorry, I really am," she said. How was she meant to make this better? She had literally told him he meant nothing to her, and yet her heart was trying to beat out of her chest. She could blame it partially on the anxiety wracking through her in the face of this situation, and entirely because - even hungover - he still looked fucking gorgeous.

"I'm sorry I even started this whole thing." He ran a hand through his hair. The dark circles under his eyes made her want to reach out. She found herself a plate from the cupboard to busy her hands.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

He exhaled heavily. "Stop saying you're fucking _sorry_."

"It was just part of the mission." she swallowed thickly and caught the toast as it popped out of the toaster, avoiding Four's eyes at all costs. "A backup plan."

"Of course it was."

"But then..." She slanted her eyes to his. "It was something _more_."

He froze, and so did she.

"No. It was just the sex, Eight." He bit out the code name like it was something nasty and she flinched. "But it would've been nice if you'd fucked someone other than me."

"I-" She floundered for something meaningful to say, but her mind came up blank. "I'm sorry."

God, she would rather have been anywhere but there in that moment, with him looking at her like that. _Fuck_. She hated the tremble that had leeched into her words, inwardly berating herself for showing weakness. She couldn't afford to, not with what she might be forced to do.

Four worked to lower the volume of his voice - both for her sake, and the team, who he hoped were still sleeping and _not_ listening to their conversation. "I know you did it for the mission." His nails bit into his palms. "So... I'm trying not to take it too personally."

She shook her head. She tried to calmly spread butter over her toast. "No. You shouldn't take it personally."

"Well I'm not. Just... Stay the fuck away from me, yeah?"

"Okay."

"Good." He turned to leave.

"Four?"

Four glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"I really am sorry."

His mouth set in a grim line. "I know."


	11. Mouse Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little thank you to CrypticWonder and VelvetPuppeteer_172 for the reviews, especially to CrypticWonder for their ongoing support with this humble fanfic.
> 
> Thanks also to the 27 people who have given Kudos and 2 people who have already bookmarked it! I’m glad you’re all enjoying it!

Blake did her very best to stay out of Four's way over the next couple of days, and Four gave her the same courtesy. She politely declined any invitations to play board games in the evening, and left her room at odd times to avoid him. She made sure to make an appearance in the living area daily, but only to sit in the corner to read, and both of them avoided each other's eyes. Feeling the tension, the other Ghosts kept tight-lipped and light-hearted, though they watched the two surreptitiously. One very much enjoyed the drama, Three and Five discussed matchmaking whenever the pair weren't in the room, and Two and Seven were, frankly, sick of it.

Blake was on the roof one evening when a buzz reached her ears. She watched the drone clear the edge of the building and land neatly beside her. Briefly, she scanned the windows of nearby buildings, looking for the operator – all she saw were the reflections of the city lights in the glass. Back inside, she scanned the note, then hurried to One's 'office' room. She rapped on the door.

"Come in," One called.

He was sat in front of his computer, data streaming over the monitor. He was biting his thumbnail as he watched some program analyse the data.

"Circe contacted me," Blake said, striding over to him. "A drone delivered this letter." she handed it over, and he scanned the printed note. "She wants me to lead you into a trap at headquarters."

He nodded slowly as he read, then handed it back, his brows furrowed. "She writes letters like a fucking Bond villain. Where's the headquarters?"

"Greece," she replied.

"Figures. That gives us another week to get prepared." He gave her a brief smile. "Thanks for telling me, Blake."

She smiled back and left, the smile instantly dropping from her face as soon as the door was shut. That meant she only had a week to get _herself_ prepared. She wasn't much looking forward to seeing Circe again.

***

"This is a shit idea. It won't work," Seven grumbled.

"She doesn't care!" Two exclaimed. "You'll just hurt him more, and it'll be your fault, not hers."

Three nodded sagely. "He's _not_ going to like it."

One kicked his feet up and glared at them all. "I don't care. Now he's come back and made a nuisance of himself, he can make himself useful."

The team, minus Four and Eight, were assembled in One's tech room, which was the large spare-bedroom-turned-lab in which One was storing all his equipment, including the two large monitors and a conference table at which they were seated at.

"We were just gaining her trust and now she's retreated again," One continued. "We've only got a week 'till we go to Greece. This team needs to work like an oiled machine, and at the moment, it's not."

"It's not his fault," Five appealed. "If you'd let him stay instead of sending him away and keeping him in the dark-" She broke off as a knock on the door interrupted them.

Four opened the door. He looked at their expectant faces and raised a brow. "I feel like I just walked in on something. Should I just... Go?"

"No, stay," Two replied.

"We were just talking about you."

"Shut the fuck up, Seven," One said in a warning tone. He turned his attention to a bemused Four. "You read the file I left you?"

He nodded and slid into a seat. "Yeah. Why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner? About any of it?"

"I needed her to trust us. As a team, not just because of you."

"You didn't even tell me she was Eight. I just had to find out this morning, when, you know, I just read the riot act!"

"That's _your_ problem, not mine," One said. He leaned over and tugged the file out of Four's hands. "What did you think?"

Four bit the inside of his cheek, staring at it. He raised his gaze to meet One's. "It wasn't what I was expecting."

"Us neither. She's been through some tough shit," Five agreed.

"It's unbelievable."

One jabbed a thumb back at the monitors. "Be glad I didn't show you the pictures."

"I've never seen anything gorier." Curling her lip, Five shivered. "And I'm a doctor."

"She hasn't got any scars," Four pointed out.

"And you would know better than us," One smirked.

"Don't be a dick, One," Three groaned, shaking his head.

"There were some other details about laser scar-removal and a prevention treatment that I didn't bother giving you," One said, his tone more serious. "It physically stops the cells from producing scar tissues. This Cir-Tech company is ahead of the fucking game when it comes to technology."

Seven fake-yawned, making his teammates grin. "Stop monologuing, Shakespeare. No one cares about the tech except you."

One rolled his eyes and took his feet off the desk, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. "' _Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have it thrust upon them,_ ' Seven. _That's_ Shakespeare, you uneducated moron." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?"

"You were about to tell Four why you called him in," Five reminded with a sigh.

"Right. We called you in because-"

Seven rapped his fist on the table to get One's attention. "This is your idea," he clarified, speaking slowly. "Not ours. There is no 'we' in this because I'm having nothing to do with it. I don't know about you lot, but I think it's a shit idea."

One shrugged, unaffected by Seven's words. "Suit yourself. I called you in, Four, because I've got another job for you."

"You're not going to send me on a stupid errand again, are you?"

"No, much simpler. I want you to go make up with Blake."

Four blinked. He gestured to the door incredulously, glancing at his teammates as if waiting for someone to say it was a joke. "Now?"

"Yes, now." One tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

"What? Are you fucking insane?"

Seven threw his hand in the air. "See! A shit idea!"

"This isn't _Big Brother_!" Four exclaimed, "She may be being blackmailed and whatever, but she's still a killing machine! A _killing_ machine! As that fucking file so graphically detailed."

Five rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily. "One, you're shit at explaining," she said.

"Thank you so much," One replied sarcastically.

Five ignored him and leaned towards Four. "What he means to say is, she's been very secluded since you came back the other night. It would be nice for someone to keep her company."

"With your clothes off," One added with a shit-eating grin.

"One!" Three gasped.

"He thinks she's a double agent," Five continues. "He wants her to rethink her priorities."

"I'm not going to fuck her again, so you can shove that up your arse," Four snarled at One.

Three held up his hands to placate him. "We're not asking you to-"

" _He_ is!" Four pointed at One. "What are you, One, some kind of pimp?"

"That's new," One said thoughtfully, stroking his chin in a theatrical manner. "Haven't been called that before."

"Matchmaker, more like," Two muttered with slightly narrowed eyes.

"You don't have to have sex with her," Five said exasperatedly. "Just go cheer her up. Take a bottle of wine from the fridge or something."

Four thought about it for a moment, but with five pairs of eyes on him he knew he couldn't exactly say no. Though really, he thought, if Blake was a double agent, what could _he_ do about it? He'd spent two weeks letting off steam, stalking One's fake targets from the skies, running to keep his mind clear and his feet hurting, and she still made his brain fog when he thought about her. However, it might be a good opportunity to apologise for being an arse earlier... even if she mostly deserved it.

"Alright. Fine," he conceded, pushing back his chair. "I'll go now."

"Attaboy," One said, then span his chair to face the monitors. "You can all go now."

Once they were gone, One pulled up the image that had been lurking on the edge of his files. He stared at the image of a woman's back, her braided hair in a tight bun to keep it out of the way of the sticky red blood covering her skin. The wounds, carved into her skin in sharp, straight lines, were just visible amongst the blood. He didn't know what to make of that.


	12. Hiss and Make Up

Four shifted on his toes, standing outside Blake's door. He'd been doing some thinking, and, well... He couldn't quite tell if she was still trying to manipulate him in the kitchen, and with One's suggestion of her being a double agent, it could make sense. Anyway: he was going to apologise, keep it peaceful, and leave. There was going to be no talk about feelings, or liking or disliking anyone. Keep it simple, keep it honest.

He knocked the door, quiet at first. He waited a moment, then knocked again, louder this time. Blake opened the door slowly and made a move to shut it again when she saw him, but he wedged his foot in the gap.

"I just need a moment," he said. "I'm not pissed anymore."

She squinted up at him, then sighed. "What do you want, Four?" His code name felt funny in her mouth, the name 'Ellis' teasing on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to know his real name, but she didn't dare ask.

"One told me everything."

She cocked a brow in confusion. "Everything?"

He scuffed his shoes on the carpet, bobbing his head. "About your brother. And Circe. And the..." he stopped himself and met her eyes. "I didn't know. They didn't tell me."

Blake crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, a frown shadowing her face. "It wasn't his place to tell you. Do they all know?"

"Yes," he replied honestly. "I think he had good intentions. They told me to come and find you."

"Why?"

"To apologise for being shit the other morning. And for going fucking mental about you last week. In all seriousness, I can't remember much." He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Blake's eyes began to follow his movements before she stopped herself, forcing herself to stare at the bridge of his nose, away from dangerous territory - like his lips, because he was saying all the right things and damn, he was pretty. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself if she started, but temptation tingled at the tips of her fingers. She jammed them tighter into her armpits.

"You were blind drunk." She shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, arms still crossed defensively over her chest. "Look, thanks for apologising, but I'm going to turn in for the night."

"Wait."

She stared accusingly at where his hand caught her forearm, and Four hastily let go. Before she could leave, however, he stepped closer and tilted her chin up with one finger, gentle enough that she could step away if she wanted.

Blake was just itching to touch him. Touch starvation, Harmony called it; the human need for physical affection. Blake was a sucker for it. She craved it like a drug.

He had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't planned to do it, it just... happened. She was blatantly staring at his lips while he was speaking, he supposed, then tried to hide it by looking away, but he had seen, and that made all the difference. She still wanted him, even if she didn't like him, and that sparked a little flame of want inside himself.

Four stayed here, his finger under her chin, watching her eyes grow glassy with indecision. She realised with a start that he was looking for her permission, and against all her common sense, she nodded slightly. It was all the incentive he needed; he captured her lips in a kiss.

He originally intended it to be a chaste goodnight kiss, but Blake quickly turned it into something deeper. Her hands wove into his hair and somehow his hands ended up gripping her hips and her legs wound around his waist as he pressed her against the wall of the hallway.

He broke the kiss in a daze, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to regain his breath.

"Fuck, Four," Blake panted, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. "You kiss good."

"It's got a nice alliteration to it, hasn't it?"

The two of them startled. One, who was regarding them with a raised eyebrow, smirked.

"One! What the fuck!" Four barked, unsure of what to do with himself since he was currently holding Blake against the wall.

"Totally unintentional naming on my part, of course," One said conversationally, lifting a shoulder briefly. "Four just happened to be the fourth. And the horniest, apparently."

One's eyes glinted with mischief and Four resisted the urge to roll his eyes - he'd ended up doing exactly what One wanted.

"Fuck off, arsehole."

"Charmed. Anyway, get a room." One pointed at Blake's open door. "I don't want to see your make-up make-out."

One turned and strolled away, leaving the couple glancing awkwardly at each other.

"Sorry." Four broke the silence and gingerly let her down. She gave him a small smile and he realised, with no small amount of satisfaction, that she was flushed.

He gestured to her room. "Do you want to...?"

"Sure."

Blake led him inside, inwardly cursing One for interrupting them, and sat down on her bed.

Four took a moment to look around before he sat down too. The lack of personal belongings left the space looking hardly lived-in, except from the ruffled sheets where she hadn't made her bed. He guessed she hadn't been expecting visitors.

"Well," Blake said. She twisted her hands into her blue sweater. "Trust One to make things awkward. Has he always been like that?"

Four huffed a laugh. "The asshole just has a natural way with words."

"Yeah," she agreed. She nodded thoughtfully and trailed off into silence, avoiding his heated gaze. God, she was a full-grown adult, yet one apology had her kissing him like it was her last day on earth. Could she do this? Should she do this?

"So..." he started suggestively, looking pointedly at her lips.

Blake smiled. She shouldn't, she decided, but she damn well could. And that was enough of an excuse. "As much as I liked seeing 'Ellis' in a tux all the time, I do like this." She plucked at the fabric of his hoodie with one hand, while the other slid up underneath, inching up over his stomach. She pulled up the hem, eyes darting to his to make sure it was okay.

He smirked in response and tugged his t-shirt and hoodie off in one go, dropping it down next to the bed.

"I've missed being with you," she admitted, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

He didn't let her go, taking the opportunity to continue what she'd started in the hallway. When she broke for air, he tugged at her sweater.

"Clothes," he breathed. "They need to come off. Now."

He helped her pull off her sweater, discarding it carelessly as he peppered kisses from her mouth and down her jaw. She arched her neck as he continued downwards, gasping as he kissed and sucked the soft skin just above her shoulder.

Four's deft fingers unhooked the back of her bra and she slipped it off. His fingers caressed her skin as his mouth left a trail of open-mouthed kisses to her stomach.

He couldn't help but grin at Blake's murmured encouragement when he reached her zipper.


	13. Cat in a Box

This was different, Blake decided, but not in a bad way. For the first time, they had both known each other's true identities. Sure, it had been passionate before, but now she really thought about it she realised they had both been rushed by their own personal missions: the mission against each other. Now they were on the same side, they could afford to take it slow.

It had certainly been different to wake up next to him and, for the first time. Initially disorientated when she woke, she was glad her half-asleep confusion hadn't woken him, too, because it gave her the opportunity to admire him.

His left arm was cushioning the back of her neck, his hand resting loosely on her chest. His other forearm was thrown over his eyes against the shaft of sunlight that illuminated his face. At some point in the night their legs had gotten entangled, though that may have happened before they fell asleep. Curled into his side, her arm over his chest, she allowed herself to feel a little vulnerable, a little feminine, just for a little while.

"G'mornin'," Four said groggily, surprising her. He lifted his arm from his face and squinted down at her. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. Does it really matter?"

He pursed his lips and rested his head back. "Not really."

Her hand found its way into his hair, and he practically purred with content as she began to massage his scalp.

"Feels good," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

"Come on, dopey," Blake said fondly, patting his chest. Her hand landed on his pec and she marvelled, not for the first time, at his toned muscles. "Let's go get breakfast."

He tugged her back down again. "Not yet."

"What?" she said teasingly. "Have you got something else in mind?"

His fingers found the inside of her thigh and she instinctively relaxed into his touch. He propped himself up on one elbow and smirked down at her. "Maybe."

"Alright," she agreed readily, laying her head back on the pillows. "Breakfast can wait. It can _definitely_ wait."

***

"Hey Blake!" Three called from the kitchen as she walked past the door. "You like spicy, right?"

She poked her head into the room. "Yeah, why?"

Two smiled, and Blake automatically put herself on her guard.

"Come and try this," Two said, pointing at the pot on the stove.

Blake padded over. "What is it?"

"Try it," Two insisted, while Three tried to hold back his laughter out of sight of Blake's hesitance.

She took the proffered spoon from Two, which was laden with some kind of orange sauce. It smelt very spicy.

Blake took a little sip from the tip. Immediately her eyes widened, then she screwed up her face in disgust as she swallowed quickly. "God, what did you put in it?" she demanded, eyes watering. Three handed her a glass of water and she chugged it while both Two and Three laughed at her discomfort.

"Too much chilli," Two admitted through her amusement. "It was my fault."

"Think I can get One with it?" Three asked.

"He'll smell the chilli and run a mile," Blake said, shaking her head.

"True." Three scratched his chin as he looked at the pot of orange liquid with beans and chicken floating in it. "Maybe I could disguise it...?"

Blake stuck out her tongue and dragged it back into her mouth against her top teeth, trying to scrape the chilli off of her taste buds. "Good luck with that. You'd have to use something even stronger to overpower it."

"Just start again," Two said, leaning against the counter.

Blake agreed, and left the two of them to it as Three made Two promise not to 'help' with seasoning again. She went to the living area to collect the jacket she had left there earlier, then wandered back to her own room to curl up with her book. It had been five days since she had made up with Four, and she'd been glutting herself with his presence. It felt odd to be without him – One had sent him and Five to buy supplies. He hadn't mentioned what of, and Blake didn't push him for information. Some information they just didn't trust her enough with, yet.

She wasn't sure how long it had been – certainly long enough for her legs to cramp a little – before there was a knock at her door. She glanced up as Four nudged open the door with a plate balanced on one hand.

"Hi," she greeted, lowering her book from her face.

He approached her and sat down on the edge of the bed. She pulled her knees to her chest as he offered her the plate – with two chocolate-chip cookies.

She took one, and he reclaimed the plate to eat the other one. "How are you?"

"Good." She took another bite and her eyebrows twitched downwards as she awkwardly tried to slot away her bookmark one-handedly. He watched her with thinly veiled amusement until he finally took the book from her and placed it on her nightstand, then turned back to her with a raised eyebrow.

"You look fuckin' depressed to me."

She gave him a droll look as she swallowed. "I'm _fine_ , Four."

"Really?" His eyes flickered over her face as she ate as an excuse not to talk. "C'mon, you haven't left this place all week. Did you even go out for the two weeks before I got here?"

Blake's eyes widened at what he was implying. "You know I can't-"

"Seeing you depressed makes _me_ feel depressed," he interrupted, waving a hand expressively. He bounced to his feet and offered her his hand. "Let's go blow off steam."

She stared at his proffered hand, then looked up at him. She worried her lip between her teeth, then shook her head. "One told me to keep a low profile."

"So? We'll be on the rooftops, _no-one_ will see us," he reasoned. "One won't even notice we're gone – that wanker spends too much time in his bloody office."

It had the intended affect – she laughed, and he grinned too.

"Okay, fine." She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "Just an hour."


	14. Cat-ch Me If You Can

Four was right: she had been feeling odd. Her midnight excursions to the roof hadn't been enough. Though she'd been using the gym facilities, she couldn't move freely like she wanted to.

After she had put on her catsuit ( _sans_ -mask), the two of them had snuck into the lift and rode it to one of the lower floors. She followed Four to the fire escape, and they slipped out into the night, taking a running leap onto the neighbouring roof.

This, _this_ was how she wanted to move. Twisting, jumping, rolling, each movement precise and calculated to reduce impact and lead into the next step, always in motion. Blake laughed breathlessly as her toes caught the edges of roofs, dangerously close to misstepping but just ahead of the game. This was freedom, and she was damned if she was going to listen to One and let him take it away from her – _even if_ , she mused, _his mistrust is probably warranted_.

Four launched himself into mid-air, landing with a roll opposite. He held up a palm and she skidded to a stop at the edge, the gap wide between them.

"What's wrong?"

"Let's reverse roles," Four called out. "This time, _you_ catch _me_ , yeah?"

Blake smirked. "Alright. Do you want a head start?"

"Nah, I think this should be enough," he said, gesturing smugly at the gap between them.

She watched him turn and start to run for a moment, then her eyes scanned the roof. She needed a running start to clear the gap, but there was an easier route via a crane a few buildings along.

Blake burst into a run, her eyes tracking his movements parallel to hers. Her feet flew across the bitumen roof and she vaulted an air conditioning tower and just barely dodged putting her foot through a skylight. She threw herself at the edge of the mobile crane, pulling herself up onto the arm. Four, seeing her new route, changed his own and she inwardly cursed as the crossed the crane, leaping off the end to land in a crouch on top of a stairwell.

Hot on his tail, Blake followed him over the narrow metal girders of an advertisement board, ducking under a bunch of exposed wires between the metal and leaping onto the lip of a dormer window opposite. Four glanced behind him, grinning as she scrambled up the sloped roof after him, tugging his foot out of the way of her grasping hand and taking off again.

He may have been strong and lithe, but she was lighter and had speed on her side. She grit her teeth, feeling the rim bite into her fingers when she pulled herself up. She traced his movement with her eyes, seeing him glance slightly to his left. She ran along the apex of the roof after him, then used the chimney to kick off of and swing directly into his path as he took a sharp left. Her hands shot out to grab his arms as the momentum took her sideways, and with a surprised yelp both of them teetered over the edge before Four regained his balance and yanked her back, pulling her into his arms.

"That's not how it works," she grumbled, her face buried in his chest as she tried to regain her breathing. " _I'm_ meant to catch _you_."

He huffed a laugh in response, his arms caging her in a hug. "Too bad."

A shout from below cut the silence, and they peered over the edge to see a teenager with their mobile raised, camera pointed upwards at their precarious perch.

Blake and Four exchanged glances before Blake wrenched herself away from him and clambered up and away from the edge.

"Come _on,_ " she hissed at Four, "we _can't_ be seen!"

"I think we already have been," Four pointed out, following the path she took at a slow jog. "Can't we spend a little more time? I found this vendor who does great churros-"

She paused and turned back to him. "Four, I don't think you understand," she berated. She put her hand on her hip and frowned. "If Circe sees that photo, it'll blow our cover. Not to mention the police will be after us for trespassing. If our faces are caught on CCTV..." she shook her head. She knew she should have worn normal clothing, but her suit had built-in protection for her joints, reinforced elbow and knee pads, and was, most importantly, designed to allow fluidity of movement. _Would the suit give her identity away? Did they catch her face on camera? Did they catch_ Four's _face on camera?_

The two of them made their way back to the penthouse, slipping back into the storage room. Four exited first, giving Blake a thumbs-up for the all-clear.

Three looked over the top of his newspaper at the two of them – Blake shot him a smile which he returned. Their footsteps must have been too nosy as they made their way casually back to her room, however, since One opened his door and glared at them both.

"You two, in here. _Now_ ," he ordered, opening the door wider.

They both winced concurrently, and Blake was the first to make a move, not making eye contact with One. His hand was gripping the doorknob tightly, and she spotted footage playing on a loop of she and Four almost falling off the roof; to her relief, the film was too grainy and their movements too fast to get a good still of their faces.

"I can't believe you two." One shut the door behind Four, walking around the table in the centre to point at the monitor showing the footage. "I told you to keep your head down, and what did you do?"

While Blake was trying to formulate an excuse, Four decided to go for the honest route and fessed up immediately, trying to downplay their excursion. "We only went out for an hour. I didn't think we'd be seen."

"No, you _fucking_ didn't." One looked pointedly at Blake, who met his gaze squarely. "When I said keep your head down, I meant stay here. Out of sight."

"Come on, One. Cut her some slack! She's been cooped up her for weeks-"

She put a hand on his arm. "Four, please, it's okay."

"You've been inside for three _weeks_. It's not healthy."

"I've had worse," she said. "I promise I'll stay inside."

One raised an eyebrow. "Except your trips to the roof."

She had the decency to look embarrassed. "Yes, except those. Seven told you?"

One nodded. "Yeah. I won't treat you like adults if you don't act like it," he added carefully, then rolled his eyes and put his hand to his forehead. "Shit, I sound like my dad."

Four shrugged slightly as Blake looked over at him in bemusement.

"Just keep yourselves out of trouble," One sighed. "If anyone had seen your faces that would have been it. As it is we're going to have to be careful, that film has gone viral. Apparently the dude who caught it has a lot of followers."

Blake simply nodded. There was a moment of silence.

"Are you both going to keep staring at me, or are you going to leave?" One asked. "Amuse yourselves for the next few days. We're going to Greece on Wednesday."

***

"Are you worried?" Four asked Blake.

They were sitting up on the roof, legs dangling over the edge as they watched the last hint of sunlight fade from the skyline. It was a relatively mild evening, and the street below was busy for a Tuesday.

"Maybe a little," she admitted. She stretched out her legs languidly. "Are you?"

"I don't know. Should I be?"

She hummed non-committally. A flurry of pigeons exploded from the roof of the building opposite as a man emerged to water the row of potted flowers against the stairwell.

He turned to look at her profile. Silhouetted against the darkening sky, he couldn't see it when her jaw clenched, or see her knuckles turning white as she pressed her hands into the concrete. She had been trying her best to not think about it – she never liked to dwell on a mission beforehand – but the confrontation that awaited her was going to be demanding; she felt emotionally drained just thinking about it.

Blake had never been one to seek comfort. She had always got comfort from comforting Josh, she supposed, and with him relying on her to be strong she had begun to control her emotions before Circe had even thought of tutoring her in the art of drama.

Because of this, she startled when Four shifted over, pressing his side against hers and looping an arm around her shoulders. She hardly knew what to do with herself, her body like a board. She realised, in that moment, that she was treading dangerous waters. Physical comfort that wasn't sexual had not been what she had planned for the cards that night – in fact, she had planned to sleep until one of the Ghosts decided to wake her so they could leave.

"I'm shit scared," he admitted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Pursing her lips, she forced herself to relax and pressed her head onto his shoulder gently. "I know, Four. So am I."

"One's got a good plan though, I think." He squeezed her arm reassuringly.

"The old 'pick them off one by one' has its pitfalls."

He gave a small shrug with his free shoulder. "Maybe. But we're better than most at it. It's a shame we can't use laughing gas." He looked down at her. "That's become our trademark over the last few missions."

"Circe thinks of everything," she replied. "Gas is one of them. I personally oversaw the installation of that aircon system."

"Still," he said. "I'm sure we'll be fine. Right?"

She smiled against him, making sure he could feel the gesture against his shoulder but not see the insincerity of it. "Right."


	15. The Cat's Meow

Blake bit her lip, staring out of the window at the clouds below as One's private jet flew at cruising altitude. Her nerves coiled like an angry snake in the pit of her belly.

She slid her gaze over to where Two and Three were cuddled, both fast asleep. Despite the animosity between her and Two, Blake admired the woman for her no-bullshit attitude. After all, she was the only one who seemed to see straight through her when she had arrived.

They were an unlikely couple, she mused. Three was, comparatively, more laid-back and social, the Crazy Uncle of the team. Though, she supposed, opposites did attract. She was glad Three had fallen asleep, at least - he'd been panicking for the last hour. Blake wondered if Two had given him a pill to help him sleep through it; after all, it wouldn't be the first time she'd witnessed any of the team popping pills to help themselves cope.

Seven was completely absorbed by his laptop, furiously pressing buttons. Last she'd heard, he was going online for a quick game of Call of Duty; she hadn't heard a peep from him for the last two and a half hours.

Four was sat opposite, scrolling through his phone. She had told him that she was feeling sick and he had respected that, giving her breathing room by sitting across from her. At least, that's what he said; she had a sneaking suspicion he was taking measures to avoid being vomited on. She wasn't _going_ to be sick, but it was nice to have the space to think where she wasn't overwhelmed by him. It gave her space to think.

He felt her staring and glanced up, a cautious smile curving his lips. "You feeling okay?"

She nodded. "A lot better."

He stared, as if expecting her to elaborate, but she averted her eyes and looked out of the window. She couldn't cope with him looking at her like that. It did weird things to her insides.

After ten minutes she slid out of her seat and made her way to the bathroom.

The plane was One's private jet, which he reportedly kept on the team's private airstrip most of the time - from all she'd heard about their base, she had a faint yearning to see 'One's Batcave'. It was, on the whole, overly luxurious, with spongy, tanned leather seats and ample legroom. Each drinks-holder had chilling capabilities, and a fully-stocked bar took up a separate room. The bathroom was equally deluxe. Equipped with a shower with a fifteen-minute run time and marble tiling, it looked like it had been stolen from a luxury hotel.

Blake took a little time with redoing her makeup in the bathroom, smoothing down her hair and generally making sure she looked okay. It was a calming ritual, made soothing by the intense concentration required by her makeup application, and it worked. She felt the stress ease as she cleaned underneath her fingernails, finishing the process.

A muffled and very indignant yell sounded outside. Curiously, she opened the bathroom door, only to be bowled into by Four. He was laughing breathlessly and ushered her hastily back inside, locking the door just before someone banged on it, hard.

"You motherfucker!" Seven yelled. "You _killed_ me!"

Blake made a gesture to catch Four's attention as he tried to stop laughing. " _What_?" She mouthed, tilting her head to show her confusion.

Four pressed his back against the door and gave her a sheepish grin. "I _may_ have pressed buttons on his game... I got bored."

She gave him a withering look as Seven banged the door again.

"You can't stay in there forever!" Seven said. "I'm staying _right_ here until you come out."

They stood in silence, listening to Seven as he made himself comfortable outside the door.

"Do you think he knows I'm in here?" She asked Four. "He might let me out."

"No, I don't think he will." A sinful smirk spread over his face. "It's going to be a long wait."

Laughing quietly, she shook her head as he approached her. "Four," she murmured, narrowing her eyes as he stopped in front of her.

"What?" He asked innocently. His hands smoothed over her hips, coming to rest under her butt.

"Not here," she hissed.

"Why not? Come on, live a little. We can have some fun while Seven guards the door for us."

She eyed the door speculatively. "You locked it?"

"Seven would've dragged me out by now if I hadn't."

She bit her lip, drawing his eyes to her mouth. She knew she really shouldn't; she needed to rest up for the mission, she needed to get her emotions in order, but he was smirking and fluttering his long eyelashes at her, and all she wanted to do was kiss him for it.

So she did. She kissed him hard, and immediately his hands migrated to her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist - he seemed to have a thing about that. She smiled against his mouth and pulled back a little to breathe.

Four pouted at the break and kissed down her neck, making her arch her neck to give him access.

"Don't leave me any more hickeys," she warned, digging her fingers into his shoulders. " I got enough ribbing for the first lot."

He moved over to the sink and sat her on the edge.

"Only where they won't see them," he bargained, pushing her t-shirt up to expose her stomach, nipping the flesh of her ribcage.

"Fine," she conceded with a sigh. She ran her hands through his hair, tugging playfully at the short scruff at the back of his neck, exactly how he liked it. He let out a low groan of appreciation as he kissed over her skin, then moved his fingers to her zipper.

He glanced up at her quickly, and she nodded, using her arms to brace and lift herself so he could slide her jeans and underwear down her legs. He pushed the puddle of clothing aside with the his foot as he gently gripped her knees and spread her legs.

Blake fought a little embarrassment and waited with bated breath as he slid down to his knees and got comfortable.

Four looked up, feeling her tense. "Is this okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I've just... I've never had someone go down on me before. It's okay."

He smiled encouragingly, but she still caught the smug expression that preceded it.

"It's okay," she repeated. She was getting a little hot, just waiting like that.

Four was doing it on purpose, for the pleasure of watching Blake squirm. It was nice for him to have a little control; usually they wrestled with it, which made the sex all the more passionate, but this time she was completely surrendering herself to his whims. He liked that.

Blake almost missed it when he moved his head directly between her legs, but she didn't when he gave her a solid lick through her folds. She jolted in surprise, her hands jumping to his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. She didn't know if she wanted to encourage him or push him away, so she just sat there, legs tense, as he gave her another stroke of his tongue.

 _Fuck_. That felt really, really, fucking amazingly good. She shuddered against him and angled her hips to give him better access, rewarded by his hum of approval sending vibrations through her core.

Four found her entrance and carefully circled it with the tip of his tongue, teasing her. She could feel his grin against her thighs as she tugged on his hair, urging him to go faster.

He did. She moaned and threw her head back as he tongue-fucked her, and her murmured encouragements were like music to his ears.   
She could feel herself getting close. The pleasure in her belly was mounting, the need increasing steadily.

He let go of her legs and she immediately closed her thighs around his head, holding him close. To her disappointment, he moved from her pussy, but his fingers replaced his tongue and he plunged two digits straight in. Blake cursed and arched her back, pushing herself into his awaiting mouth. His lips found her clit and he suckled on it; each draw of his lips and nip from his teeth added sparks to her flame until finally she gasped, holding him tighter as her orgasm wracked through her. He lapped at her entrance as his fingers still pumped in and out, only slowing as her orgasm died away.

Blake was left panting heavily and quivering, her lip bleeding from where she had bitten it to stop herself from crying out.

Four patted the outside of her thigh and she sheepishly let him go, detangling her fingers from his hair.

Licking his lips, he made eye contact with her as he sucked her juices from his fingers. She thought she might self-combust from the image, but then he stepped in close and kissed her and she decided that yes, she was in the process of slowly combusting, and it was way too hot in the small bathroom.

She could taste herself on his lips. Four made sure he ravished her mouth, his hands sliding down to cup her butt and pull her flush against his chest. Blake felt the bulge of him against her and squirmed, finding friction against his jeans.

"Four?" Seven's voice drifted from outside the door. "Are you... jerking off in there?"

Four froze, then a cocky smile took over his mouth. "Just wasting time," he called back, "waiting for the arsehole outside to give up."

"You're the arsehole, man," Seven accused. "And that's grim!"

Blake gave Four a pointed look. "Couldn't you just say _sorry_?" She muttered.

He shook his head. "No chance. He was sucking up all the WiFi." He stroked his thumbs over her skin. "But it's okay, I've found something better to distract me."

"You're so cheesy," she said with a long-suffering sigh.

"D'you wanna go all the way?" He asked huskily against her lips, resting his forehead against hers.

She glanced at the door. "I don't think he's going to let us out soon," she said with a suggestive smile.

He grinned, flashing his teeth as she attacked his belt with deft fingers, his zipper receiving the same treatment. She pushed them down his legs with her feet, and he stepped out of them and kicked the clothes aside to join hers in a pile on the floor.

He was almost painfully hard. She reached out and stroked his length, then guided his cockhead to her entrance.

She kissed him as she felt him line up with her pussy, he spread her a little as he slotted himself against the dip of her entrance.

Blake broke the kiss and kissed up his jaw to his ear, making him shiver as she sucked lightly on the his sensitive spot. His hands held her arse to keep her steady on the side of the sink as he put more pressure behind his cock and slid inside her.

Blake moaned lowly and dug her feet into his back, urging him to go deeper. He bottomed out and wasted no time in setting up a slow, undulating rhythm that aggravated Blake to no end. He laughed softly in her ear as she made frustrated noises, sliding her hands under his hoodie to pinch his skin lightly in retaliation.

" _Four_ ," she said petulantly. "Don't be a tease."

"We've got hours," he pointed out, kissing her cheek and then her lips. It made her chest constrict, made her second-guess herself for a moment. She didn't want to make sweet love for hours, she wanted to _fuck_. It would make things easier for her in the long run... but obviously, Four didn't know that. She didn't want to think about it right now.

He kissed her mouth, nibbling on her lip, then pulled back to look into her eyes with a cheeky grin. "Just enjoy this, yeah?"

She released the tension in her body, giving him a small nod. It could very well be their last, she thought, so they might as well make it memorable.

***

Four wished he had a camera to hand when he opened the bathroom door an hour later, because the look on Seven's face when he saw Blake was of pure mortification. Four was sporting several blossoming hickeys, mostly hidden, but one was just visible by the collar of his t-shirt, and despite Blake's best efforts she could not disguise her sheepish smile at having been caught.

"I knew it!" Seven wheezed, scrambling to his feet and clutching his laptop with one hand. "You horny bastards!"

Four shrugged unapologetically. "Did you finish your game?"

Four dodged, grinning widely, as Seven went to punch him in the arm. He tugged Blake behind him as a human shield on the way back to his seat, and Blake blushed and offered Seven a shrug as she passed.

Four was mildly surprised when she opted to sit next to him when they got back to their seats, but not before she fetched them both a sparkling water. Because she, as Seven so graciously pointed out as he grumbled on the way back to his seat, was thirsty as _fuck_.

"Thanks," he murmured, as she sat down.

They sat in silence for a while. Blake could feel him start to twitch at the lack of entertainment.

"You okay?" She asked carefully, putting her hand in his thigh.

She turned to her jerkily, then nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Just... don't like planes much."

"Oh." What else was she meant to say? She loved planes, mainly because she'd only been on them as a kid, and flying made her think of her family, of going on ski holidays and beach getaways.

He looked away, closing his eyes against the glare of the full sun above the clouds, and settled his head against the wall by his seat. His phone was discarded on the table, through boredom or no battery, she didn't know. She felt a little bad for hurrying the sex along, despite his insistence on taking their time with it, but she'd been dangerously close to saying things she wasn't sure she meant.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn't look very comfortable, wedged between the seat and the wall, his eyes closed in uneasy sleep.

It was a little over an hour before she worked up the courage to place her fingers on his arm; he peeled one eye open, and she instantly felt apologetic for waking him.

"Sorry. Um, do you want to..." she indicated her lap with a nod. "The window can't be very comfortable."

He squinted at her for a moment, sleep fuddling his brain, before shifting the angle of his body and laying his head on her lap, his legs pulled up to his chest in the little space he had.

"Like this?" He mumbled.

She swallowed thickly as she placed her hands in his hair. "Yeah."

It took a little while, but eventually his breathing evened out. She stopped running her fingers through his hair for fear of waking him, but she didn't know where to put them, so she left them there.

It all felt so... normal. _Domestic_. She was trained to kill, not to cuddle, but she couldn't quite deny that she liked it. A lot.


	16. Puss (Back) In Boots

The van jerked as it went over a pothole, and Three swore, followed by Two's muttered "Merde!" when the back wheel, right under her seat, jerked and jolted her.

"You'd think a billionaire-ess would invest in the local infrastructure," One huffed. "How can she live with the state of these roads?"

"Not every billionaire is a philanthropist," Five told him, as she held tight to the overhead handle.

"Wish they were," Seven muttered as they passed over another particularly nasty pothole.

Blake peered through the windscreen, saw they were almost there, and directed Three into a nearby alleyway, where the van would be hidden but still accessible in circumstances where a quick getaway might be needed.

"Alright," One said as he dished out our comms. "You all know what we're doing. Quick and easy, in and out, yeah? Like how Three fucks."

"Watch it," Three warned, glancing sidelong at One as he secured his comms.

"Primary goal is get the patients out of there and the operation shut down," One continued. "Does anyone have any questions, before we begin?"

They all stayed silent. Blake exchanged glances with Four.

"Good."

Outside the van, when the rest were suiting up, One pulled Blake aside.

"I found these for you," he said, presenting her with her bladed gloves. "I'm relying on you for this."

She nodded, a smile playing on her lips as she slid on the gloves and heard the satisfying 'shing!' of the blade sliding out over her knuckles.

One also held out the cat mask for her to take. She reached for it, but paused at the last moment. She glanced up at his calculating expression, his gaze steady in hers, waiting for her to make a move.

She shook her head. "That's not who I am anymore," she said, letting her hand fall to her side.

One grinned and threw it aside. It skittered over the tarmac and into a drainage ditch. "True that."

"Hey, aren't you getting ready?" Four called out, his eyes flicking uncertainly between the two of them. Blake gave Four a swift nod and a smile.

"I hope you two got all that tension out on the plane," One commented lowly. "Don't make me regret putting you two together on this."

Blake coloured, remembering how Four's hands had roamed all over her body not two hours before. She shook her head. She couldn't afford to get distracted.

One watched her closely, the way her jaw tensed at the thoughts he'd induced. Good. She needed reminding where her loyalties laid; he only hoped her budding relationship with Four would be enough to keep her on the straight and narrow with the Ghosts.

"I won't let you down," she promised.

One gave a quick nod and walked back to the group to collect his gun. She wished her promise could have been as sincere as it sounded.

***

Blake was grateful for the lift as they ascended the building directly next-door to Cir-Tech, to the thirtieth floor.

Four, Seven, and Blake got out of the lift and stepped out onto the roof. The wind immediately whipped at their clothing, and Seven grunted in distaste.

"You ok?" Four asked him.

"The wind, man. It makes my job a whole lot harder."

Blake glanced over her shoulder at Seven. "Do you want to move downwind?"

Waving a hand, Seven shook his head indignantly. "I didn't say I couldn't do it. I'm a professional!"

Blake opened her mouth, but Four wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the edge of the roof. "Don't provoke him, he's very proud," he muttered into her hair.

"Oi! You lovebirds forgetting something?" Seven called after them.

"The wire!" Blake realised. She reluctantly twisted out of Four's arms and jogged back for the grapple launcher. She offered Seven a sheepish grin as she collected it and then made her way back to the edge, taking careful aim at the roof of the Cir-Tech building - five floors below and a full twenty meters away.

One's voice came over the comms: " _Everything alright up there?_ "

She fired the grapple, tending at the recoil as the compressed air in the launcher released. The hook pierced the side of the metal air-conditioning unit on the roof, deploying its arms. She gave an experimental tug and it stayed fast.

"Yes, we're in position," she replied. "Where are you?"

" _Right outside the front doors. It's less flashy than I expected_."

"It's grander on the inside," Blake assured him. She secured her end of the zipwire cord to the large aerial nearby. "We're ready when you are."

" _Roger that. Five will meet you in the middle, the rest of us will go down to the basement. Meet us there_."

"Got it. Good luck."

Four made a face at her as she cut of the comms. She raised an eyebrow. "Why the face?" She asked.

"You don't wish good luck before a mission. You'll jinx it."

"Oh." Pursing her lips, she flipped a short length of chain over the wire, holding it with both hands. "Then I take it back."

"That's even worse luck," he lamented.

She rolled her eyes, but inwardly her heart fluttered at his adorable pout.

"A kiss for luck, then?" She suggested.

He didn't need asking twice. Fully aware of Seven's presence, she kept it sweet and pushed him away with one hand. "Let's go."

The wind in her ponytail was thrilling but the ride was short, coming to an abrupt halt when she let go and rolled with the impact onto the Cir-Tech roof. She stepped aside as Four followed her and did the same, both of them brushing asphalt from their clothes.

She glanced back at the wire. There wasn't any way back, now; the zip line was one way only. The only escape was down.

Blake drew her gun from its holster and approached the maintenance lift door. It was locked, but her Cir-Tech key card was accepted.

Guards were waiting for them on the top floor. Half a dozen men were camped in front of the doors, and they opened fire on the exposed lift as soon as the doors slid open, bullets flying and ricocheting in the small lift space.

The rotating machine gun Blake had set up in the doorway of the lift did its job and sprayed the room with bullets. She listened to the sound of gunfire from the top of the lift shaft, until the clip of the machine gun was empty. Someone cursed on the floor below, and through the gridded maintenance hatch on the lift she saw them enter to inspect the machine gun setup.

Blake flicked out the knife on her glove and severed the lift cable with a quick swipe. The man's startled scream was cut short by the crunch of the lift hitting the bottom on the shaft.

She listened again. Silence.

"Do you really need me here?" Four asked her incredulously.

"Of course I do. I need you to watch my back," she replied. "Not my ass, Four. My back."

He held up his hands with a grin. "You said it, not me."

Blake sighed and took one of the dangling cables in hand. "Okay. I'm going for an all-or-nothing technique, no sneaking around today. Pretty sure the others have already made their presence known so we need to get down as fast as possible."

"Sure." He shifted his feet, pulling the hood of his hoodie off his head. "Let's do this."


	17. Three Blind Mice

One had fucked up. Royally.

Everything had been going perfectly to plan. The four of them - that is, One, Two, Three, and Five - had entered the building with guns blazing, scaring out the civilians and gunning down the guards in the entrance hall. They had quickly cleared the first ten floors of guards, and bar a near-miss with a grenade - which Three had hastily thrown back at their opponents before it could go off - they hadn't had any slip-ups.

They left Five on the tenth floor, and she bunkered down in the stairwell to catch anyone who decided to investigate what was happening downstairs. Then One, Two, and Three had descended into the basement.

That was where things got ugly. When One had tried to use his electromagnetic glove to quickly disarm a guard that managed to sneak up on him from behind, the frequency set off another circuit, magnetising the whole room. Their kit pinned the three Ghosts to the walls, and One cursed himself - Two did too, both in French and English - for not using the non-metal kit this time, though he certainly had not expected it to turn on him like that.

He had, however, expected the confrontation that followed. Once the guards had managed to tie them all up, they were taken to a dark, grey-painted room with no distinguishing features except a grey chair, which One was tied to. His unfortunate teammates were dumped unceremoniously on the floor by the wall, much to their voiced distaste.

"What is this, some kind of Casino Royale setup?" One complained, twisting his wrists experimentally between the armrests and the rope holding him there. It didn't budge, but the burn made him wince. "Hey, fuckwads! I'm talking to you!"

The guards remained silent and still, staring almost unblinkingly at the door behind him. One craned his neck to look just as it opened and a woman in a short black dress appeared.

The blood drained from his face as she circled around, and she broke eye contact with him only to dismiss the guards with a flick of her thin wrist.

One leaned his head back against the rest. "You've done it. You've finally got my full attention," he said, enunciating every syllable carefully. "This isn't the reunion I had in mind, 'Circe'."

Circe quirked a brow and placed a hand on her hip. "You've been ignoring me for three years. _You_ didn't have a reunion in mind at all."

He shrugged. "Maybe your petty shows haven't interested me enough."

One swallowed thickly as she looked ready to snap at him. Maybe he shouldn't provoke her; she clearly had the upper hand in this situation.

She schooled her expression into a calm mask. "My last resort was the damsel in distress. Blake. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," she explained with a satisfied smile.

One rolled his eyes dramatically. "Alright, Miss Chiffre. Don't beat around the fucking bush. What do you want?"

Circe paused for a moment, a little surprised by his bold demand. "I had a whole speech planned out," she pouted. "You won't deny me that too, will you?"

"By all means, wax lyrical," One said. Her mention of Blake had suddenly reminded him the other half of the team was in the building; any time he could buy would be useful. "If you're going to keep us here you might as well tell those two why." He jerked his head at Two and Three, who were very confusedly watching their interaction. He didn't blame them.

"I wasn't stupid enough to put myself in a team," she said, her eyes sliding over to them. "I wasn't stupid enough to care about my agents. You collected people in numbers, and I collected them in letters... Poetic, isn't it?

"Blake was perfect, desperate, the underdog I knew you would help." Circe began to pace, shooting One a smug smile. "She's prone to feelings, but that's how I got her in the first place. A few drops of poison in her brother's food and she put him into my care for specialist life support, no questions asked. I admit I was pleasantly surprised by her... _Skill_. Determination is one of her finer qualities."

One figured this was a good time to ask the cliché question. He never thought he'd be in this situation, but he rather fancied himself as James Bond, so he asked anyway. "Why are you doing this?"

"You abandoned me," she accused. "You abandoned your own _sister_!"

One winced as she snarled in his face, turning his head against the flying spit. God, he hated angry people.

"I knew you weren't stupid enough to fly a plane straight up," she continued, finally backing away.

"I'm flattered," he replied, deadpan. "But there were things that needed to be done-"

"Don't you think I needed to know?" Circe snapped. "Didn't you trust me enough to tell me, to include me in your stupid save-the-world stunts?"

One exhaled heavily and resisted rolling his eyes again. What was the usual placation? Oh, _right_. "No. I didn't want you to get hurt-" he began.

"You hurt me more than any physical damage." She pulled a knife from her boot and stroked the edge.

He instantly regretted his words and eyed the knife nervously.

"And I resent you for that. So now, I'm going to hurt you."


	18. Cat and Canary

Blake and Four were making decent progress with eliminating the entire population of Circe's guards. By the time they had made their way down to the twelfth floor they had fallen into a decent rhythm, where Blake went in guns blazing and Four lurked at the edges, picking off the strays.

"Oh no you don't," Four muttered, seeing a black-clad figure flee the fray. He quickly jumped up onto the kitchen counter and delivered a shot to the man's kneecap, wincing at his scream. The noise alerted Blake as she slit someone else's throat and she pushed the body away, letting it crumple to the floor.

Four swallowed down a pang of fear - genuine, pulse-racing fear - as she approached him, smothered in other people's blood. It was all over her, covering her clothing and splattered over her cheeks, her forehead, her lips.

He watched the crazed glint in her eyes as she walked past where he crouched in top of the counter to stand over the man, who was attempting to crawl away. She abruptly pulled her gun and he looked away as a single shot rang out. The man's pitiful whimpers ceased.

She glanced at him, Four, and the predatory glint was replaced by a less murderous one. God, how could he be simultaneously terrified by the woman and have a raging hard-on? He had known what she was capable of, but really, he realised, he had actually had no idea. And he was slightly awed by it. He'd seen her from every angle over the past four days, since they had kind of made up - though admittedly there had been markedly less talking since their make-up than they needed.

The only reason he convinced himself to feel safe in that moment was because while her index finger was currently wrapped around a trigger, a mere few hours ago it and the rest of her fingers had been digging almost painfully into his back.

"You ok?" She asked, her eyes raking over him.

He hopped down off the counter. "Yeah. Ready for the next one?"

In the next room, behind the partition, the lift dinged. He exchanged glances with Blake and they both dove for cover behind the kitchen island, pressing their backs against the cupboards.

Blake raised a finger to her lips and lifted her gun. There were two bullets left; she'd gone through the motions so many times that counting them down was a habit, now. Reloading would be noisy and give away their position. What she needed was the element of surprise.

The guards spoke in hushed tones into their own comms as they swept the area. She waited until one got close and popped out from behind the counter, grabbing his collar and pulling him over the counter, exposing the back of his neck to the blade in her glove. The clatter of his gun over the work surface alerted the others, and she delivered a quick shot to the head of another guard before she ducked back down and shot another one when they rounded the corner.

Hasty words into their comms requested immediate backup, and as she slid another clip into place, she glanced askance at Four.

"Watch my back?"

He nodded. "Of course."

With the affirmation she vaulted the counter, sending two shots at once and then twisting to get another.

The lift dinged again, and she turned, fully expecting to let off a string of bullets, but she had to jump aside as a smoke grenade rolled to a stop by her feet.

Immediately, Blake's eyes began to water. She coughed and brought her hand over her mouth, squinting through the mounting fog. Dark shapes moved, but she pretended not to see them, staggering blindly for the counter, for Four.

The guards reacted to her vulnerable act, exactly as she'd planned. She grabbed the first hand that reached for her and broke it with a hard twist, revelling in the howl the guard let out. She kicked out at where she estimated his stomach would be, and she hit a satisfying weight and heard the snap of a rib.

They soon realised the trap meant for her had just become a trap for them, as she prowled through and struck them off one by one. Their panic only made them easier targets.

Blake heard a startled yell, then a gunshot shattered a window. She span on the spot, trying to make out what was happening, and upon the sound of fists against skin she started towards the noise, batting away the curls of smoke that spooled around her.

"Four? _Four_!"

She grabbed the guard that had him pinned down and pulled him off. She landed a swift kick between the guard's legs to get him to double over and then she severed his spinal column with a swipe of her blade.

"What the hell were you thinking? You know can't fight hand-to-hand, dumbass!" She berated.

He was leaning against the counter, panting from adrenaline. "You were outnumbered-"

"You seriously underestimate me."

His eyelids fluttered. "I-I think I need to sit down..."

"Four?" She launched herself forwards and helped him slide down to the floor, and he groaned when the movement required that he use his left arm.

She peered over his shoulder and her eyes widened. "Shit! Five I need you! Now!" She barked into her comms.

"Ha, I literally got stabbed in the back. And it wasn't by you this time." He smirked faintly at her.

She narrowed her eyes as she moved behind him so she could properly assess the damage. The fog was clearing slowly, revealing a stark trail of blood soaking into his grey hoodie. "This isn't a good time to be salty, you're literally bleeding out. Shit." She pulled off her blood-soaked bladed gloves so she wouldn't contaminate him, then cut away a decent-sized circle of his hoodie and shirt so she could see it better. " _Shit_. That's not good."

"Don't tell me that," he complained.

"Sorry."

Four heard her moving behind him and cast a glance over his shoulder to find her peeling her black cat-suit from her shoulders, revealing a clean white t-shirt underneath, which she pulled off too.

"Don't take your shirt off!" He exclaimed, looking away from her. "Fuck, Blake."

"You've seen it before," she teased. "What else do you want me to do? Let you bleed out on the floor?"

His Adam's apple bobbed as she wrapped her shirt around the knife in his shoulder and pressed it gently to the wound, careful not to push the knife in further. The slow trickle of blood that was oozing from around the knife didn't trick her into thinking it wasn't too bad; she knew that once the knife was removed it would get a whole lot messier.

Four focussed on staying still. It hurt for him to move. Did it hurt to breathe? No, but the pain emanating from his shoulder was getting stronger, the previous almost-numbness from adrenaline fading to reveal a pulsing pain that was growing steadily.

She saw the pain flicker over his face and tapped into her comms again. "Five, where are you?"

"Blake, how bad is it?" He asked, looking up at her with a wide-eyed stare.

Blake stared back. "I-"

"Not bad," Five interrupted as she emerged through the thinning smoke screen, seeing Four and the knife. "You're going to be fine."

"Five, thank _god_ ," Blake exhaled, and moved away from him.

Five gave Blake a funny look as she saw her topless except for her bra, and Blake hurried to zip her suit back up. "Not what it looks like," she assured quickly.

"I don't think it's hit any major arteries..." Five mused, peeling away Four's shirt and inspecting the wound.

"With this amount of blood?" Blake asked incredulously.

"It's not enough to be an artery." Five levelled her with a bemused look. "I would've thought you'd know."

"I kill, not heal. I don't wait around long enough to see what happens after I stab someone."

One drug shot later, and the growing intense pain faded again. Four sighed as he felt the pain slip away.

Blake held him steady as Five slid the knife out, cleaned him up, and started to stitch him up. Blake had to try very hard to keep herself from panicking at the blood that spilt like a flood from the slice, but she was reassured by Five's explanation that he'd lost very little blood compared to his body mass, despite it being all over the three of them.

"Hey, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Four asked Blake hazily, as Five pulled the last stitches tight.

Blake's lips parted and she shook her head, as if to clear it. "No. Shh, Four. Stay still."

"Mm." He let his head loll a little, and she caught his chin in her hand to stabilise him. He blinked slowly at her. "Fucking beautiful, babe. I love you."

She stared at him. Fuck. It wasn't the time for feelings, she had to concentrate. Couldn't he have sung her praises earlier? Or later? Given her the warm fuzzies sometime other than right then, in front of Five? Damn him. No fireworks went off at his drug-induced proclamation, though she felt like a bomb had gone off in her head. A very destructive, very messy one.

She decided he was utterly under the influence and had no idea or cogency of what he was actually saying, or had said.

As if to prove her conclusion, in the next moment, his eyes closed and stayed that way.

Five raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "We need to get him out of here," she said. "That shot will keep him out for half an hour or so, but he's going to want more pain meds. I think it's severed some tendons."

"There was a food trolley in the hall," Blake suggested. "Will that do?"

"Better than nothing. I'll get it."

Blake glanced up from his serene face to Five's calm one. "Are you sure?"

Five nodded once. "You're more useful to the team right now than I am. Go, I've got it."

"Thank you." Blake stood and gathered her things, sparing Four's unconscious form one last glance before she entered the stairwell. She was thankful for one thing; his elimination from the equation might just make the next part easier.


	19. Cat Fight

"One, come in, Four is down, Five is treating him," Blake said into her comms as she descended the stairs. There was no reply. "One? One, where are you? Can anyone hear me?"

" _Receiving you_ ," Seven replied. " _Haven't seen or heard anyone in a while_."

Blake bit her cheek as she peered around the door, checking for guards. "Nothing?" She asked quietly, and slightly dubiously. "Two? Three? Can you hear me?"

" _They went quiet about ten minutes ago_ ," Seven supplied. Out on the rooftop, he tracked Blake's movements through the building with his sniper sight.

"Okay. They're either dead or captured," she concluded. She tipped over a porcelain vase to make her presence known, but no one jumped out at her. "And I'm not sure which is better."

" _What do you want to do?_ " He asked.

She squinted out of the window at the place she thought he was, making a face of disbelief and hoping he could see it. "You're asking _my_ opinion?"

" _Yeah. Is that a problem?_ "

She shook her head. This would make things simpler. "No, no problem. Can you see any guys from your vantage-point?"

" _No_."

"Alright. You come in the ground floor and work your way up, i'll work down to you." She turned from the window and headed for the stairs. "If you find anyone, tell me. Then we can go explore the basement."

" _Alright_ ," he agreed readily. " _Watch your back_."

"See you in a minute."

Blake took a cursory look into each floor as she made her way down, but she didn't bother engaging. Circe was in the basement, she knew; she just had to get there.

She nearly shot Seven when he came up the stairs, and after a brief moment where they had their guns levelled on each other's heads they lowered their weapons. Seven gave a sigh of relief.

"Seen anyone?" Blake asked.

"No." He held up a broken piece of black plastic. "But I found Two's comms."

She groaned and shook her head. "Shit. They've got them, then."

"Alive?"

"Hopefully." She gestured with the gun to the stairs. "Let's go."

There wasn't anyone on the lower floors, though the evidence that the team had left behind - in the form of strewn bodies - was everywhere.

Blake used her key card to open the lift to the basement and they stepped inside.

"Is Four okay?" Seven asked abruptly, interrupting the silence. "I heard on the comms."

Blake bit the inside of her cheek. "He's fine. He got a knife in the shoulder, but Five's hopefully got him out by now. I told her to use the maintenance lift on the other side of the building."

Seven bobbed his head thoughtfully, watching her expression turn terse. "That's good. He's better at sneaking about than gunning people down, anyways. This isn't his kind of thing."

She didn't get to answer. The lift doors slid open and a flash of white light proceeded two sparking wires shooting into Seven. He yelled and dropped to the floor as the barbs from the taser dug into his skin.

" _Blake_ , what a nice surprise," the woman outside of the lift drawled. "Circe told me you might stop by."

Blake eyed Seven, who was howling and writhing, and cut the wires with her blade. Rogers had designed her gloves to be insulated, and she silently thanked god for it.

"Diana, always a pleasure," Blake replied curtly. She stepped out of the lift and glanced around the room; it was the monitoring room, where usually a small group of Circe's employees would digitally track targets and agents alike. Harmony had worked there before she was promoted to Blake's glorified babysitter (which Blake hadn't minded; they'd become good friends because of it). Blake had never seen the room before, but it closely resembled a normal office space, with desks and glass partitions. There were noticeable signs of a struggle, but curiously everything magnetic was dragged to the sides of the room.

Blake dragged her eyes back to Diana. "Where's Emilie?" She asked.

"In Mallorca, currently. Someone owed Circe," Diana shrugged. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. "I won't need her to take you down. I'm stronger, bigger. And, I have a taser."

Blake resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Diana had always been jealous that Blake got the most high-profile jobs - honestly, Blake would have loved to palm them off, but she needed the money to pay the debt for her brother's medical bills.

Blake took another step forwards and Diana realised she hadn't yet reloaded the Taser with another cartridge. She blanched as Blake sprinted the five steps between them and launched her shoulder into Diana's chest, knocking her on her back. Blake struggled to pin the stronger woman down, though, and after kicking the taser away she bounced to her feet, not wanting Diana to roll them over and trap her.

Diana peeled herself off of the floor and coughed, having had the breath knocked out of her.

"Alright, bitch, you want to do this?" She growled.

Blake dodged the first punch, but she didn't see the leg that followed, sweeping her off her feet. She held her head in her hands as her back hit the ground squarely. Her eyes widened as Diana made to stamp on her belly and she rolled aside, using Diana's momentum to pull her down, making her body-slam a desk.

"You know what I'm here for," Blake snapped. "Lay off."

Diana winced as she stood. "No. You've done your job. She doesn't need you anymore. Or your stupid faggot brother!"

Blake bared her teeth and rushed her again, but this time Diana was ready. She stepped aside and shoved Blake into the glass partition. It shattered upon impact and Blake gasped as she was showered in glass, nicking cuts over the skin that wasn't covered by her suit - mostly her face.

Diana stalked forwards with a predatory grin. "Gotcha, kitty. Not so high-and-mighty now, huh?" She prodded Blake with her foot, her smile growing wider when Blake only groaned.

Meanwhile, Blake's thrown-out arm was hidden by the desk. She sorted through the glass shards with her fingertips, finding a large one and gripping it. Circe would have a field day if Blake managed to kill another agent under _any_ circumstances, so she needed something she could stab Diana with other than her blade – something untraceable.

It was shockingly easy to trick Diana into thinking she was down for the count. The other woman was about to kick her in the side, monologuing about her victory, when Blake stabbed the shard into her thigh, right to the bone. The expression on her face was priceless. Blake watched as she hopped backwards, howling, and leaned against a nearby desk to assess the damage.

Blake got to her feet slowly, assessing damages. Her shoulder was pretty sore, and when she felt her cheek it came away sticky with blood from the gash just under her eye. It didn't matter. Circe would fix it: she always did.

"I wouldn't take that out unless you want to bleed out," Blake advised Diana, who was glaring at her spitefully. "Sit down and stay calm. And don't you _ever_ insult my family again."

She left Diana to it, picking up the taser before heading back to the lift.

"Seven?" She crouched next to him. "Hey, how do you feel?"

He peeled open his eyes. "Like I just got electrocuted."

She quirked a smile. "Hurts like a bitch, right?"

She helped him to move out of the lift and sit against a desk, where he could watch over both Diana and the lift doors.

"Here's your rifle," she said, putting it in his lap. "And the taser. Shoot anyone who's not in uniform who walks through those doors, and make sure she doesn't move. Take it easy, okay?"

He gave a jerky two-fingered salute. "I've got it. Good luck."


	20. Of Mice and Men

Blake made her way down the hall and paused in the doorway at the end, not expecting to see One strapped to a chair in the middle of the room and Two and Three looking uncharacteristically helpless in the corner, both bound and gagged.

"Blake, how nice to see you," Circe hailed her arrival and smiled widely, spreading her arms to welcome her. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with those people upstairs, darling. Would you like a clean suit?"

Blake shrugged. "No. I like the look."

"Of course," Circe said, giving her a once over. Blake had left a trail of bloody boot-prints through the hall. "Do close the door. I believe you've already met my brother?"

Blake shut the door. "Yes, we've met," she said dryly, casting him a glance. His expression was agonised, his arms twisting in their bonds. Her eyes slid down to his hands; his ring and pinkie fingers on his right hand were severed at the knuckles. Circe had cauterised the stumps, presumably with the poker and blowtorch discarded on the floor, but they still looked ugly and painful.

Blake clasped her hands behind her back and stood straight, military-style. "Your plan worked perfectly," she observed.

"It did, thanks to you. You even have my brother fooled. You really are world class."

Blake bowed her head again, accepting the praise. "It wasn't hard," she admitted. "I played the victim and he trusted me instantly. Those files you leaked just cemented it."

One was aghast. He couldn't tell if she was bluffing or not, but he had a terrible fear she wasn't. "How could you?" He demanded. "I thought you were part of the team!"

Blake's eyes slid to his, but her blank expression didn't waver. It was just... Empty.

"You always did pity the weak, didn't you?" Circe said to him, running her finger along the bloody edge of her knife. "It's why you faked your death: for the good of Turgistani peoples you'd never met." The edge bit into her own finger, and she watched a bead of blood blossom before wiping it away on his sleeve. "What you don't understand, is that weak people have to exist to cater to the strong, brother."

"It doesn't have to be like that," he protested.

One flinched as she levelled the knife at him threateningly. "You cannot be rich without kicking the poor beneath you," Circe proclaimed. "You should know that. The companies using your magnets use slave labourers. Well, my magnets," she clarified, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Thank you so much for signing over the deeds before you died."

Circe's laugh was of wild, unbridled self-satisfaction. Blake stood obediently even as Three tried to get her attention; she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him while he indicated Circe with his eyes, as if he wanted her to take the opportunity with her back turned to kill her. Blake smirked at him and went back to standing rigidly, waiting for further orders.

"Go fuck yourself," One spat out at Circe.

Circe stopped laughing. "Oh, that's not very nice," she said. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Though, speaking of fucking, you've been doing the dirty since you've been dead. I have a nephew!" She exclaimed, with overly-exuberant happiness.

She smirked at One, watching the panic overtake him as he struggled with renewed urgency. "You- don't touch them!" He pulled one ankle free, but the range of his desperate kicks were limited to about a metre, and she was carefully out of range.

"Oh, I'd never dream of it," Circe drawled. "They're safe." She twirled the knife in her hand. "For now."

He stopped struggling. "What do you want? What do you really want from me?"

"I just want you to come back home. Give up this stupid team, come back from the dead. We can be a family again."

"There's so much more I want to do," he appealed, in spite of his situation. "People in need. People dying."

Circe shrugged. "Let nature take its course. Death is inevitable, after all." She sent Blake a smile. "My Chat Noire is perfectly capable of dealing it out."

One heard the threat in her tone and cracked. With Blake standing there so mutely, ignoring so many absolutely golden opportunities to take out her gun and kill Circe, he realised he couldn't hold out the hope she would take mercy on his lover, or his son.

"I- alright. I'll do it. But you can't touch my team," he bargained.

Circe pouted in false sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll have to break that promise before I even make it. But it's just one of them, I promise!"

One shook his head. "No. This deal is all or nothing."

"Just the one. I'll spare four out of five, I promise. It's necessary." She gave him a pitying look, then turned to the door and barked: "Bring him in!"

Blake stepped aside as another interrogation chair was wheeled into the room. She didn't turn to look as it came in, but she saw the matted dark blond hair and her stomach felt like it might turn inside-out. She dug her nails into her palms behind her back.

One blanched. "Four? No, Rosie, please-"

"It's Circe now," she snapped. "I'm not that weak, lonely woman anymore."

"One? What's going on?" Four asked, a little dazedly. It had only been three quarters of an hour since Five had given him the painkillers; Blake guessed he had probably only just woken, and was probably a little bewildered by the situation.

"I need to test the loyalty of my best agent," Circe explained slyly. "Your acting was just so convincing, Blake, that you even had me guessing."

Blake stared at her unblinkingly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Prove your loyalty," she ordered. "Kill him."

Blake nodded, taking out a tube of red lipstick from her pocket and applying it liberally to her lips.

"Blake, no!" One howled, "Stop! Don't!"

"Don't worry, Daniel dearest." Circe said soothingly, watching Blake approach Four's chair from behind. "I won't hurt any of the others. Just this one."

"Blake, no! Four! Billy!"

Billy. Blake rolled his name on her tongue. She hadn't wanted to ask, before; they had all used their code names while she was there. It felt too personal to know their names. Billy. She decided it suited Four. Innocent. Boyish. Billy.

She circled around the front of his chair. It was harder when she could see his bloodied face, his wide-eyed fright.

"Blake?" He asked uncertainly, his voice wobbling.

She scowled at the guard holding his chair, and the man nodded respectfully and took several steps away.

"Blake?" Four asked again. His eyes shot to her hand when she slid the blade from her glove. "Shit, that's a knife," he blurted, pressing his head back into the headrest, away from her.

Circe watched with a satisfied smirk as Blake swung her leg over Four's lap, her knees on the chair either side of his hips. One watched with bated breath, frustrated that her position had blocked both his and Circe's view of Four.

Four swallowed thickly and looked away from the knife and into her eyes as she brought the knife to his throat. She pressed a thin line into his neck, enough to cut but not deep enough yet to slit the artery. He sucked in a breath, and she ached at the expression of pure betrayal on his face.

Blake leaned in, pressing her lips to Four's left cheek, transferring her red lipstick to his skin. It was her trademark signature, the one she hadn't had a chance to leave at the first mission.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He hissed, as she moved her lips to the other cheek, exposing her signature to One and Circe's keen eyes.

Blake heard a tortured sob from One. There was a slap from the direction of Two and Three; one of them must have stepped out of line. Four began to tremble beneath her.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay," Blake soothed quietly into his ear, her free hand coming up to stroke his right cheek, out of sight of Circe's stare. "When I say, scream, gurgle, and go limp. Alright?"

His eyes bugged. "What's going on?" he murmured.

"Now."

Blake moved the blade and slit the wrist that was holding his face, biting through her lip at the intense pain. She went through with the motion as if she had slit his throat side to side, and Four did what she told him and struggled for a few moments before letting his muscles slack and his eyes shutter. She held her wrist over him to let her blood smother his cut and his front, then climbed off of his limp form.

She disguised her light-headed sway by taking a few steps away from Four's chair and towards Circe, angling her back away from the guards. She clasped her hands behind her, hiding her wrists, using her other hand to apply pressure to the wound.

One made a guttural noise at her, physically shaking. "How could you?" He demanded of Blake, baring his teeth. His voice shook with barely contained rage as he glared at her. If he wasn't strapped down, she thought he would've strangled her.

She ignored him, looking stoically at Circe. "Is there anything else you would like me to do?"

"No, thank you. Take him away. The rest of you can go too," Circe flicked her wrist dismissively at the guard who brought in Four, then positively beamed at Blake. "Your obedience on this occasion was a delightful surprise, well done. You may go also."

Circe turned back to face One, stepping in close. "I hope you consider that a warning. My agents are trained to kill without mercy; they make your little team look like children."

The guard wheeled Four's chair from the room, and Blake watched the others follow in response to Circe's barked order. Once the door was shut and the guards were gone, Blake waved her arms to catch One's attention, making a kicking motion and indicating Circe, then her own leg to show where to hit.

Circe saw his gaze shift over her shoulder. Blake stood back at attention, squeezing her wrist tight as Circe turned to look at her inquisitively. The blood was pulsing from around Blake's fingers; she was afraid that Circe might see the puddle at her heels.

If One didn't understand what she had implied right at that second, she might lose consciousness before their next chance came around.

"Blake?" Circe asked with a raised eyebrow. "Did you have something else to say?"

"Yes, just a question," Blake said, making eye contact with One. She gave a curt nod.

One kicked out as hard as he could, catching Circe in the back of her knee. In her black heels, Circe toppled, crying out.

Blake lunged. She landed squarely on top of Circe, sliding her blade from her glove to hold it over Circe's neck. Blake's wrist pulsed blood over Circe's front, and Blake saw the room spin. She grit her teeth.

"How does it feel to have your throat cut?" Blake rasped. She leaned in, so their noses were only an inch away. "I've always wondered, see. I've slit so many throats, and they were all in your name... I've never found out what it feels like."

Circe gurgled, clutching at Blake's arms as she dug the knife squarely into her windpipe, crushing it before the blade slid into her skin from the force and cut her throat. Blake snarled at her as she made another, deeper slice, to ensure the job was done.

Blake felt her eyelids growing heavy. Once Circe's convulsing ceased, Blake rolled off of her, clasping her wrist in a vain attempt to stop the blood spilling further. She couldn't believe Circe hadn't seen the puddle that had formed when Blake had moved, but sheer dumb luck had brought her time, and revenge.

When One had told her about her brother's belladonna-induces sickness, she had assumed it was Circe's way of giving Blake a pity card to play on the Ghosts; that it wasn't true, that she could play along and seemingly have a reason to go against Circe. A little curious research into the symptoms had told her it was the inescapable truth – Circe probably hadn't meant to let that slip.

And so Blake laid there, eventually letting her wrist fall limply to her side, feeling the back of her head grow wet. She didn't know who's blood it was pooling. Hers, Circe's, both; she guessed it didn't matter. She closed her eyes, then fought to open them again. She couldn't let herself slip away.

Vaguely, she heard One shouting at her. She had just killed his sister, after all. She probably deserved it.

She closed her eyes again, and this time, they stayed that way.


	21. Time For Paws

Everything felt heavy. Something was squeezing her finger. There was annoying beeping noise somewhere to her left.

She twitched her finger, trying to work out what was pinching it, and heard a startled gasp.

"Blake?"

She cracked oven her eyelids, but they were stuck together. She tried to move her hands to rub them; a sharp tug on her hands stopped her, and someone carefully guided her hands back to her sides.

A warm, damp cotton wool pad passed gently over her eyes, loosening then enough to let her open them. She squinted against the sunlight.

"Hi," someone said. Five's face swam into focus, and Blake stared at her a moment before trying to sit up.

Five pushed her back into the bed gently. "Take it easy. You lost a lot of blood."

Blake's eyes flittered around the room. There was a patient monitor to the side, and an IV line with some clear fluid stretching to her wrists. Scratch that - two lines, one to each hand. And a monitor on her index finger, too. The beeping noise got faster.

"You're safe. It's over," Five soothed.

Blake tried to swallow, but her throat was like sandpaper.

"How are you feeling?" Five asked.

"Like shit," Blake answered hoarsely.

"Any headaches, nausea or numbness?"

"Hea- headache."

"Alright. Good." Five nodded and stood. "I'll get you a drink of water."

Upon closer inspection, Blake found herself in a small room, which closely resembled a hospital room but was too expensive-looking to be in a public hospital.

Five came back with a glass and gave Blake the remote to tilt the upper part of the bed upright.

"Thanks," Blake said, taking the glass. The water was cool on her tongue, and she wanted very badly to drink it all at once, but she took Five's advice and sipped at it.

"We thought we'd lost you for a while there," Five commented.

Blake lowered the cup and glanced down at her wrist, which was bandaged heavily.

"You're likely to have a scar I'm afraid. You might want to hide it with bracelets."

Blake had a strong memory of holding her bleeding wrist to Four's neck. She cut her eyes to Five's sharply. "Four, where is he? Is he alright?"

"He's fine. Well on the road to a full recovery."

She let herself relax at Five's honest tone, taking another sip before she replied: "Good."

Five busied herself with retaking Blake's vitals, checking her temperature and cleaning a couple of small cuts, which were left uncovered to let her skin breathe. Blake winced as Five dabbed alcohol on the cuts on her face, particularly the one just under her eye.

"How did you get the blood in time?" Blake asked, watching Five as she adjusted the IV flow. "I thought I was dead."

"So did we. Your records from Cir-Tech had your blood type." Five said conversationally. She glanced over. "Two agreed to donate."

"She did?" Blake almost spat out her water. She carefully swallowed before speaking again. "I thought she hated me."

Five split a grin and say back down by the bed. "I wouldn't worry. She's like that when she meets new people. I think she admires you," she added.

"Me?"

"For what you did in there." Five nodded earnestly. "You were ready to sacrifice yourself for the team. That takes a special kind of courage."

"Or love."

The two women turned to see Two enter with her eyebrow raised, carrying a tray. Blake stared in mild perplexity, then realised what Two had insinuated and felt her cheeks warm.

"Revenge," Blake corrected quietly.

"Great, you bought food," Five said, hurrying to move a table over Blake's lap.

Two placed the tray down and offered a small smile. Blake returned it tentatively.

Two glanced down at the food meaningfully. "Complements of Three." _A peace offering_.

"It looks good. I'm starving." _Offering accepted_.

"You _have_ been out for three days," Five said, obliviously breaking the women's' silent conversation. "I'd be surprised if you weren't."

Blake tucked into the roast heartily. It was a little awkward with the two other women watching, so she waved her fork and asked: "What about Cir-Tech?"

"One dissolved it," Two explained. "He contacted the last agent in Mallorca and told them Circe had been poisoning her mother. She came back and he gave them both fake passports and tickets to Norway."

"Huh. He's good at what he does," Blake observed.

"He has the money to push it through. But yes, he's very good."

A knock on the door preceded One poking his head though. "My ears are burning," he accused. "Can I come in?"

He entered before they could reply, dragging a chair up beside Blake's bed. "So. How are you feeling?"

She nodded and raised her bandaged wrist. "Good, all things considered," she said.

He nodded thoughtfully, then twisted to look at Two and Five. "Can you guys- I mean, _girls_ \- give us a minute?" He asked.

Five pushed to her feet and caught Two's eyes pointedly until she did the same.

He watched them leave and settled into his seat with a sigh. "Sorry about the wrist. It's gonna scar. Circe's shithead minions destroyed most of her creations before we could get our hands on them, unfortunately. Including her medicinal technology. It's such a waste," he lamented.

She glanced at his hand. "It's okay. I can hide it easier than you can hide your fingers."

He bit the inside of his cheek as he raised his hand, turning it so she could see. "Yeah. It's fucking ugly, isn't it?"

She eyed the charred red stumps. "Kind of," she admitted. "Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Don't worry about it, Kit-Cat," he dismissed. One leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But I just wanted to thank you, for what you did."

Blake stubbornly avoided eye contact. "I'm sorry I killed your sister," she said quietly.

"Don't be. She was hardly a sister to me." He stared down at his hands as his fingers wove together. "She was seeing a therapist when I faked my death, and with the money from the patent on my magnets..." he trailed off, then smiled thinly. "I thought she'd be okay."

Blake let that hang in the air before speaking. "You did what you had to do to become a Ghost," she said firmly. "You've helped a lot of people."

His grim smile turned sincere at the compliment. "And you did too," he countered. "By killing her. You're like a fucking bulldozer with that knife."

She grinned. "I try."

"I want you to join the team. Officially."

Blake blinked. Hard. She hadn't been expecting him to say that, of all things. "Really?"

"Yes." One shrugged and crossed his ankle over his knee. "You've already faked your death, so you don't need to do that again. But you will have to cut any remaining ties."

"My brother," she realised.

"Yes, unfortunately. It's for his safety."

Blake sat up a little straighter. "How is he? Where is he?"

"Oh, a full recovery," One said breezily. "He's here, actually. Made good friends with Seven."

"What will happen to him?"

"I'll give him a fat cheque and he can go and live the life of his dreams." One fixed her with a slightly pitying look. "I know Circe didn't pay you."

"She said the money I earned went towards his medical bills."

They sat in silence for a moment, then One slapped his thighs and stood. "I'll let you think about it," he said. "You should eat, and then rest. I can't have two of my team down for the count for too long."

"I want to see him," Blake said immediately, knowing who he was referring to.

"He's not great."

"But Five said-"

"He's recovering, yes. But he's not brilliant. He's been fighting off an infection for the last day or so. And you need more rest too."

Blake narrowed her eyes. "I still want to see him."

"Maybe later," One conceded. He pointed a finger at her. "First, eat."

"Alright, matron." Blake rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Watch your mouth, Kit-Cat," One warned with a grin.

"Are you going to keep calling me that?" She asked, as he made to walk out. "Now I'm officially Eight?"

He raised an eyebrow at her acceptance of the code name. "Only when you piss me off," he replied. "See you later, alligator."

She quirked a smile. "In a while, crocodile."


	22. Easy, Tiger

"I want to see Billy," Blake demanded.

Five sighed as she cleared away Blake's breakfast tray. It had been a couple of hours since Blake had woken, but Five had stoutly refused to let Blake see him, despite the fact that Blake had been, for all intents and purposes, fully functioning for the last hour. Save for a couple of wobbly moments, she had been walking, then pacing the length of her room.

"I told you, give it a little while."

"If you don't take me there, I'll find my own way," Blake threatened. She gestured to the bed and made a face. "I don't need any more bed rest. How long can blood loss keep you out?"

Five considered for a moment, then gave in. "Fine. I'll take you. But I'll warn you now, he doesn't look good."

"I know," Blake said. "One told me about the infection."

Five walked Blake down the hall, shadowing her in case of any dizzy spells. Blake paused outside the room Five indicated, her hand hovering over the handle.

"What do I say?" She asked Five, bringing her hand back to her chest protectively.

"Just say hello," Five replied. "Go on."

Five opened the door, then closed it with a definitive click behind her, leaving Blake and Billy alone. He startled at the sound, opening one eye with a groan.

"Hey, Billy," she ventured cautiously, taking a seat beside him.

"Blake?" He asked groggily.

"Yeah, it's me."

"They said I wouldn't be able to see you for a while."

"I managed to persuade them otherwise."

He nodded, closing his eyes again. "I'm feeling shit, before you ask."

"You look it," she acknowledged. She looked him over, scanning the cuts over his face and arms, then finally the thin slice over his neck, now a thin scab.

"Thanks," he said dryly. He reached up to rub his eyes so he could see her properly. There was a purpling bruise on her chin from the fight with Diana, and the scratches on her face were stark against her skin.

"I really thought you were going to cut my throat deeper," he admitted, watching her with hooded eyes.

"Never," she said vehemently. "I couldn't do that to you."

"They said you cut your wrist. I just felt a lot of blood. I couldn't see fuck-all. I heard you scream, and-" he broke off, his eyes finding hers and holding them. They were glassy, a little delirious. She suddenly realised he must be dosed up pretty high on pain meds. "I was so scared. I couldn't do _anything_."

Blake registered the heart rate monitor jump up in frequency and took his hand, grazing her thumb over the back of it. "Shh, shh, it's okay. I'm here now," she pacified, her other hand finding his cheek. She gave him a gentle smile. "Five stitched me up and Two gave me a blood transfusion. Everything's fine."

He turned his hand over to hold hers palm-to-palm, squeezing it, as if making sure she was really there - or not letting her leave.

She squeezed back. "I just need you to get better, okay?"

"Everyone else?" He asked, scanning her features. "Are they okay?"

Blake nodded. "They're all fine. One and Two had some cuts and bruises, but considering Three cooked for me I assume he isn't in another medical bay. Seven got tasered, but One said he's hanging out with my brother, so he's fine too."

"That's good." Billy settled his head back into the pillow. "Can you stay?"

"Of course."

It wasn't very long before his hand went loose in hers, the frown-lines on his forehead softening in sleep. She stayed a few minutes more, then kissed his forehead, shutting the door quietly behind her.

***

Blake made the mistake of telling Five about Four's reaction in terms of heart rate, and she effectively banned Blake from his room, and no amount of temper-tantrums was going to make Five change her mind, _thank-you-very-much_.

"He needs to heal, and getting visitors isn't going to help," Five said sternly. "Give it another week."

And so it was that Blake found herself passing the time of day with the team, or, as One liked to put it, " _doing_ _fuck-all_ " while he himself sunk his time into researching politics, particularly into keeping an eye on the troublesome new US president, as far as Blake could gather from the rare glimpses into his room. She didn't question it.

They quickly got bored of playing board games and moved onto playing cards. Three had taught them a backstreet card game, which they were playing when Five came back from checking up on Four.

"Blake," she said, "He's asking for you."

Blake froze and lowered her cards. "Can I..?"

Five nodded and Blake stood abruptly. She almost walked out with her hand of cards, then remembered she was still holding them and sheepishly passed them to Three to be redistributed.

"Sorry," she apologised.

"You better go, before he has a heart attack," One commented dryly.

Blake ignored him and hurried after Five, falling into step beside her as she strode down the corridor.

"I've weaned him off the strong stuff so he's lucid today," Five explained, casting Blake a look out of the corner of her eye. "Don't stress him out too much."

Blake bobbed her head as they stopped outside his door. "Of course."

Five stared at her for a moment before plunging down the door handle, swinging the door open and gesturing inside. "Good luck."

Blake gingerly ventured inside. She was glad to see him sitting up, though he still looked heart-wrenching worse for wear.

"Hey, Billy," she said, as his eyes caught hers.

"Blake," he greeted. The relieved sigh he gave at the end of it encouraged her to pull the lone chair around to sit beside him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. "Better now you're here."

Gasping with mock-exasperation, she went to slap his arm, stopping herself at the last moment. She wasn't exactly sure about the extent of his injuries yet, since Five hadn't deigned to disclose it to her.

She settled with giving him a stern look. "Enough with the corniness. How do you _actually_ feel?"

"Shitty," he admitted. "They told me I've got rid of the infection, but it's still fucking sore. Doesn't help they're trying to get me off the meds."

Blake pursed her lips, then reached out and held his hand in both of hers. "It's going to suck for a little while," she said honestly, "but hang in there. How's your arm? Can you move it?"

"A little. It's a partial tendon tear so it going to be a little while." He tried to move the fingers on his other hand and winced, giving her a sheepish smile.

He stared down at her hands for a moment before taking his hand from between hers and turning over her palm to show her wrist.

"So it's true," he said, gently running the pad of his thumb over the scab, feeling the indentations of the black nylon stitches. "I didn't know if it was a fever dream or not, when they told me what you did."

She pressed her mouth into a flat line and turned her hand back over. "I did what I had to, to kill Circe," she said, working to keep the wobble out of her tone.

"Oh. Yeah, of course." He cast his eyes downwards, staring resolutely down at their joined hands. "How was One?"

"Surprisingly calm about the whole thing." Blake's fingers twitched against his. "He, uh... He invited me to join the team. Permanently."

His eyes snapped to hers and he picked his head off the pillows to look at her straight. "Really? And what did you say?"

"I said I'd think about it."

"Oh." Four let his head fall back into the pillows, disguising his disappointment with a serious nod. "Well, it's a big decision, what with your brother and all."

Blake closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. "I think I'm going to say yes."

"That's great," he replied.

"You don't sound so enthusiastic," she observed with a raised eyebrow.

He shifted a little and squeezed his eyes shut as she movement aggravated the wound on his back, only just recovered from the infection. It was still red and angry, but at least it wasn't turning green. He hadn't been able to move his right arm properly since, and though Five assured him the muscles and tendons would heal he held out the fear that it would render him useless to the team, and that they would kick him out. Blake was a decent freerunner; she could easily replace him. Was this what One planned? What could he do if they kicked him out - go back to his mother? The poor woman would probably go into cardiac arrest, and unironically accuse him of being a ghost.

He settled for a nonchalant shrug of his left shoulder. "I just don't want you getting hurt again," he said simply, blinking up at her earnestly.

A flicker of something soft pulled at her features before she laughed faintly. "Aw, Billy. I can handle myself, don't you worry," she reassured him.

He thought back to the mission, before he'd been stabbed, to when she was covered in blood that wasn't hers. "I know you can. I just... I care about you. A lot."

He stared in dismay as she pulled her hand out of his, before he could clutch onto her fingers.

"Ah," Blake said. Her eyebrows furrowed and she leaned back, away from him, putting physical distance between herself and those blue doe-eyes. "We should probably leave this conversation until you're healed-"

He reached out and caught her wrist before she could leave. She winced as his fingers accidentally dug into the stitches, but thankfully he didn't seem to notice and his fingers slid down to link with hers instead.

"No, we need to have it now," Four asserted. "When I saw you when they wheeled me out, you were lying in a puddle of blood and I realised I still didn't know how you felt." He averted his eyes, but still held on tight. "It doesn't matter, either way, but I just want to know, you know? So I can move forwards."

 _Shit_. Blake hadn't been ready for this. She didn't think she would ever be ready for this. She had tried, she really had, to think about it over the last week, but absence makes the heart grow fonder and seeming him so vulnerable was manipulating her emotions until she hardly knew what was up and what was down, and, more importantly, what was real and what was a product of her sexually-depraved body and mind. Was it love, or was it physical attraction? She didn't know the answer to that. "I know. Billy, I- I really like you. But..."

Four bit the inside of his cheek, this time refusing to give in to the urge to look away. He wanted to see her face as she said it. "If you're going to reject me, do it fast," he demanded.

"I'm not." She felt him relax against her palm. His fingers were distracting, but she didn't dare take her hand back for fear of stressing him and invoking the wrath of Five. "Look, we've only been on a few dates-"

"You slit your wrists for me."

An exasperated sigh. " _Billy_."

"Sorry," he apologised. "Go on."

"I really do care about you," Blake continued. It was her turn to stare at their conjoined hands as she sat back down warily. "Maybe I love you, but I'm not sure yet. I just need a little more time to get everything together," she explained frankly. "I've been through such a whirlwind, with you, my brother, Circe- I'm not sure what any of my emotions are right now. I'm such a mess."

"A beautiful one."

Blake snorted, a grin splitting her melancholy. "Oh shh, you. Keep going like that and you'll sway my judgement."

He very much wanted to keep swaying her judgement.

"It's okay. I can wait." he said, instead.

"Thank you." She finally pulled her hand back and stood again. "I'll let you rest."

"Come back tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

She nodded. "If you want me to, yes."

"I do."

"Then I will." Blake pushed herself to her feet, her hand slipping out of his. "See you tomorrow, Billy."


	23. Just Fur You

With very little left to do except wait for Four to heal and research their next target. One focussed on researching a certain Julian Fuentes, a French people-smuggler that purportedly worked under an elusive higher power. He was hoping that Fuentes might be the key to the king pin who was next on his list of twelve top targets.

Meanwhile, the other Ghosts were taking advantage of the facilities at Murat's penthouse. They were scheduled to stay there for one more week before going back to the airstrip. Blake was excited to get her own trailer to personalise, and Three had promised to help her set up inside. One, however, had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't be staying in her trailer very much, which was a little bit of a problem.

When Blake announced that she was going to watch a movie with Four, One decided to address their budding relationship while Blake was away.

"Okay," One said. "It was very nice to have all this lovey-dovey stuff to convince Eight to choose the better sibling, but I need some way to split those two up. Any suggestions?"

There was a moment of silence while they all stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"What?" he asked. "Did I stutter?"

Five gaped. "You can't just..."

"What?"

"You _can't_ split them up." She frowned. "They really like each other."

" _That_ is the problem," One said, leaning forwards and making a steeple with his fingers. "I can't have people compromising themselves for other people. Especially hot-headed millennials."

"Give them a break, One." Seven muted the TV and turned around on the sofa, resting his arms against the back of it. "They've been through a lot."

One lifted his hands. "No, I'm serious. Four literally got stabbed." He pointed at Five. "Five can attest to this."

"We know he did," Three butted in, "but it worked out alright."

"Pipe down, buttercup," One quipped, earning a less than amused scowl from Three. "The three-word phrase is coming. I can feel it."

Two gave him a droll look. "So? Let it."

"Not that you're much better, you two," One said, eying Two and Three with some suspicion.

"Shut up," Five demanded. "They're cute."

"We've got cute! Wally's cute!" One appealed, spreading his hands.

"That big lump of doleful dog?" Seven raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Four loves that dog too you know."

Two's eyebrows twitched downwards. "Where does he come into this?

"I'm just saying, because you lot seem to be taking his side right now," One said, turning away from them slightly. He frowned at the door that lead to Four's room, ensuring neither of them were eavesdropping.

"This isn't a competition, One," Seven pointed out, folding his arms. His fingers drummed against his arm lightly. "If I remember rightly, you've gone and made sweet love and procreated."

One heaved a sigh. "That wasn't planned."

"Still," Seven said, staring at him as if he had rested his case. He hadn't, not by a long shot. One was going to fight this argument to the end, and he _was_ going to get his way. He wondered why they couldn't see that it was going to be a problem for the team. It was bad enough with Two and Three canoodling, but a younger couple was surely going to prove disastrous.

"Fine," he said. "But that hasn't meant I stop being a ghost, has it?"

"And they won't either," Five replied, gesturing to them all. "And neither will we!"

One shook his head. "No offense, but you guys are _old_. They've still got time to..."

Three grinned. "Procreate?"

"Procreate," One confirmed grudgingly.

"Procreate?" Five repeated.

"Will you stop saying that?" One gave a dramatic, long-suffering groan and rested his head on his fist. "You're making me feel... Ugh. I don't even want to think about it."

Two crossed one leg over the other and smirked before she took a sip from her glass. "Then don't."

"What I mean to say is, they've both got very useful skillsets," One clarified, "and I do _not_ want them eloping. If they say hasta la bye-bye to the team I've got to spend another year replacing them."

Seven snorted derisively and tilted his head. "I think you're underestimating the value of family, One."

"Family?"

"Yeah. We fight for a cause, right?" Seven shifted so he could see the other Ghosts. "To make the world a better place. But in the meantime, we spend a lot of time together, like the Cleavers."

One's jaw dropped. "You know it?"

"I looked it up on Wikipedia," Seven admitted with a shrug.

"You impostor!"

"Oh flake off, One."

"Don't, you'll make him horny," Three said, flashing his teeth in a grin.

One sent him a dirty look and collected himself while Seven continued: "My point: I don't think Blake just stayed for Billy. I think she stayed for the family." Seven held up his hand as One gave him an incredulous look. "No, no, hear me out. She hadn't interacted with her brother properly in more than five years. Her parents kicked her out. Like you said, she's perfect Ghost material, no ties, no nothing-"

"With a family complex?"

"No- this is difficult." Seven looked searchingly at the others. "How do you explain family to a guy who doesn't understand it?"

"I understand it, I just don't like it," One said. "If she's staying for family shit, she's not getting it from me." He stood up abruptly, and retreated to his room, not believing the lack of support from his team.

"I'd like to double my bet, if that's okay," Seven said to Five.

"Don't look at me," she said, throwing up her hands. "Billy's running it."

"Oh. You in too?" Seven asked her, twisting back to face them squarely.

"Yeah, I've got 5k down."

"That's a little ambitious," Three mused. "For or against?"

Five glanced at One's door before speaking. "Against. Reckon he had fucked-up parents."

Three bobbed his head thoughtfully, following Five's gaze. "That makes sense. Maybe I should change mine back..?"

"You'll have to ask Four," Seven told him. He turned his attention to the blonde beside him. "You in, Camille?"

"Of course."

"How much are you betting?"

Two smiled secretively. "Enough."

"Aw, c'mon darling," Three cooed, "tell us?"

Two shook her head, an amused smile making its way onto her face. She moved Three's hand off her knee so she could lean forwards and place her glass on the coffee table. When she sat back, she realised everyone was still waiting on her answer. "You'll find out when I win," she said simply.

"You're pretty confident," Five commented, her curiosity piqued. "What do you know that we don't?"

"Has Blake put anything down yet?" Three asked.

Seven shifted his attention over to him. "I dunno if Billy told her."

"Not sure they do much talking," Two said.

"No, they do talk," Five corrected her. "It's actually pretty sweet.

Seven nodded. "Yeah. I feel like my teeth are rotting when they're together."

Letting out a bark of laughter, Three leaned over to punched Seven's arm lightly. "Didn't you do the same when you were younger?"

"No, I joined the army right after school," Seven replied. "Ain't got no time for shacking up there. Delta's worse," he added.

"Oh, man. I'm sorry you missed all the hot chicks," Three said, a genuine note of apology in his tone as he settled back into the sofa beside Two.

Seven laughed. "I'm not that old, bro. I've got plenty of time to find me a bird."

"Not that this conversation isn't fascinating," Two interrupted with a raised eyebrow, "but Javier, isn't it your turn to cook?"

"Yes," Seven said quickly, gesturing to Three urgently, "now go. I don't want to have to eat Amelia's cooking again. No offence," he said, throwing an apologetic look at Five.

"That's not nice-" Five began.

"Need I mention the melting tray?" Two asked.

"I didn't know that wasn't oven-safe!" Five protested, raising a pleading hand as she looked around for support.

Seven pressed his lips together. "What about the time you set a pan of baked beans on fire?"

"Or the exploding mug cake?" Three added, a smile twitching on his lips. "Leave it to the professional, Amelia."

***

That evening, Blake settled down on the sofa to play Monopoly with the others, fully intending to beat Five - her hoarding strategy had rendered her the winner of the last three nights, and Seven had devised a strategy to force her hand that Blake was invited to play a part in.

However, they were halfway into the game when the lift dinged to announce a visitor.

"It's for you," One said to Blake, before anyone could react to the noise.

He didn't offer anything else, so Blake didn't ask. Her brother had been flown out to Europe with a sizeable cheque, but not after spending a few days with the team and Blake. On her request, he hadn't been informed about any of her past actions, and the team had thankfully respected that. She also hadn't told him about Four, who was still confined to his hospital bed due to a fluctuating body temperature.

Blake squinted in disbelief as she went out to the lift. "Harmony?"

"Blake!" Harmony grinned, then she saw the healing cuts on Blake's face and wrinkled her nose. "God, you look like hell!"

"Thanks," Blake replied dryly.

Blake gestured into the other room, where they had been playing, but Harmony shook her head. "I'm only going to be a few minutes, I've got a plane to catch," she said in an apologetic tone.

"Oh." Blake awkwardly shifted, frowning a little in confusion. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you here?"

"Well, One contacted me and paid off the loan Circe owed me-"

"A loan?" Blake interrupted.

Harmony shrugged. "She promised a pay-out in exchange for my work, so that I could bail my girlfriend out of jail."

Blake gaped at her. "You never said you had a girlfriend!" She exclaimed, eyes widening.

Harmony smiled. "Yep, going on three years. Dumb-ass got done for graffitiing some important guy's house." she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jumper. "He made sure she'd be in for at least ten years."

"Wow."

"Yeah. One wanted to send me there immediately, but I wanted to make sure you were alright before I left."

Blake could feel herself welling up in appreciation for her friend - the closest thing to family she'd had, before the Ghosts. "I'm fine. Thanks, Harmony."

"No problem!" She chirped. She fished her phone from her pocket. "Here, I'll give you my temporary number. I'm flying out to see Maria tonight."

Blake grinned. "I claim a seat at the wedding."

"Right back atcha!" Harmony smiled slyly and gave Blake a piece of paper with her telephone number on it. "I saw your boyfriend by the way. One showed me the CCTV before he deleted it. You never said he was a complete hottie."

"Harmony!" Blake's face reddened as she waved her hands. "We're not dating. Just..." she trailed off, searching for the right word. What _were_ they, exactly?

"So you slit your wrists for a good fuck?" Harmony asked dubiously.

"No. It was for the team," Blake said firmly. She thought about Four again, then shook her head. "It was for my brother, for the team, for justice... for _all_ the people Circe was blackmailing."

Harmony nodded and didn't push any further. "Well I'm pretty sure this lot are intending to keep you, and they're one hell of a deadly family," she said. "And you can always call me if anyone gives you any trouble."

"Thanks." Blake pocketed the paper. "Really," she said honestly, "for everything. You're a good friend, Harmony."

"Hey, Kit-Cat?" One called out from the other room. "Do you want me to take your go?"

"Don't you dare!" Blake shouted back. "I'm not letting you roll away all my hotels!"

"I'd better go," Harmony said. "I've only got an hour before check-in opens. Text me, okay?"

Blake nodded. "Whenever I can. Good luck, tell Maria I can't wait to meet her!"

Harmony smiled as the lift doors shut on her. "Will do!"


	24. The Cat That Got The Cream (Epilogue)

**One Year Later**

Blake did a running kick straight into the chest of a guard, then drove her glove blade up under the chin and though the neck of the other.

She didn't like to admit it, but she was getting pretty overwhelmed. She paused to check on her arm, where a bullet had just grazed her suit a few minutes before, then swore and ducked though a doorway as she was opened fire upon.

She touched her comms with her right hand. "Seven, there's two guys on my floor. Can you see them?"

There was a beat as Seven adjusted his sight. " _Yeah_."

"Okay. Can you get the one on the left?"

" _On it. Three, two, one_..."

Blake jumped out from her cover and sent a single shot towards the guard on the right. It hit him square in the chest while Seven's bullet streaked past Blake's silhouette in the doorway and got the guard on the left in the head.

"Thanks," she said, toeing them with her boot to make sure they were down.

" _Sure. If you're done, I think Two and Three need help on the East side_."

Blake made her way to the east side of the house, hurdling over the odd body or two left in doorways.

She shot a guard in the back of the head as he took cover behind the doorframe in front of her, taking his place and peering around to assess where she was needed.

The room was large, with shiny black flooring and views overlooking Paris. Strip LEDs outlined the edges of the sleek black sofas, which were riddled with bullet holes and spewing stuffing onto the floor.

Two and Three were holed behind the drinks bar on the near wall. Nearly all of the bottles over their heads had been smashed, the mirror behind was cracked, and Three had taken to blindly throwing bottles over the bar in the hopes one would catch a guard- well, _off-guard_.

"I'm to your right," Blake said, tapping into their channels.

Two glanced over and gave a quick nod. " _Three ran out of ammo. Got any spare? I'm on my last too._ "

" _Fucks sakes, I told you to take more,_ " One grumbled.

Blake ignored him and slid her two last clips across the floor.

 _"Thanks,_ " Two said, passing them to Three; he saluted Blake and slid one into place. " _There's nine of them."_

Blake hadn't dealt with such skilled people in such numbers before. Fuentes, their target, was a rich guy, and obviously he'd taken precautions after he found out about the death of his brother down in Marseille. _That_ shit-show had been born of complete coincidence: the guy had forgotten his wallet and came back into his office unexpectedly, while Four was still digging through his desk. Seven had been forced to take the shot when the guy pulled out a knife.

Blake managed to catch one of the four guards left in the arm. He let out a howl and pulled his arm back into cover.

"Reload your gun, idiot!" Two cried wildly, glaring daggers at her partner as he plastered himself against the wall.

"I'm trying!" He replied, pulling his limbs tight to his body. "I'm being shot at too, you know!"

" _Can I help at all_?" Four's voice asked over the comms.

Blake shot and missed, then pulled back behind the doorframe. "No, we've got it covered-"

" _Behind you, Eight,_ " Four said over the comms. She span around, moving her head out of the way of the downwards blow with the butt of the guard's rifle, but Blake didn't expect the guard to kick out lithely, sweeping her feet from under her. Blake hit the floor hard, managing to roll aside before the they could stomp on her ribs.

"Eight!"

The guard turned at Four's shout and got shot clean though the chest, splattering Blake with blood. At such short range, the bullet buried itself solidly in the wall above her head, and she gave the guard a solid push in the back so the bleeding body wouldn't fall on top of her.

"Thanks," Blake said with a smile, taking Four's proffered hand and letting him pull her to her feet.

He used his sleeve to wipe away the blood splatter on her cheek, subtly checking it wasn't hers. "You good?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Blake's gaze lifted over his left shoulder and she levelled her gun around his body, letting off a round at the guard who'd just entered the corridor.

"All good," she replied with a smile. "I think they'll be fine now; let's go get Fuentes, I'll follow you."

He nodded sharply. "Let's go, then."

Seven followed their movements and cleared the way for them as they made their way to the top floor. There were less guards there - clearly Fuentes had underestimated them and sent most of them to ambush them on the floor below, which hadn't worked out well.

"One, we're almost there," Blake said into her comms.

" _I'll get the magnet ready_ ," he replied. " _Where exactly are you, Eight? Your tracker's broken_."

"Can you track me instead?" Four asked.

" _You're together? Why am I not surprised..._ " One was quiet for a second while he found Four's position. _"I've got you. It's the door on your left._ "

" _I'll meet you there_ ," Five added.

"We're outside his door," Four said into his comms.

" _Now_."

There were crashes as the steel-framed building was magnetised. Blake plunged down the door handle, throwing the door open with a bang, gun raised, finger taking up the slack on the trigger, ready to shoot.

It turned out she didn't need to worry. They walked in to see the target hanging on the wall by his watch, shouting furiously in French. Blake threw back some choice words as he cussed them out, and Four glanced between them, slightly mystified.

Blake turned back to face Four as the man struggled. "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," she commented.

Right on cue, Five appeared in the doorway. "Oh. Looks like I won't need you two," she said, raising an eyebrow at Fuentes as he looked her over. "Real asshole, huh."

" _That's the one,_ " One agreed.

"One's an asshole?" Two asked, stepping inside. "I thought we'd discussed this?"

" _Very funny_ ," One deadpanned. " _Tell me when to turn it off._ "

They got Fuentes down from the wall and into a desk chair with the help of some good old-fashioned duct tape. They taped his mouth for good measure after he insulted Two and she punched him in the face; for everyone's safety, it was for the best.

"I've got this under control," Five said to Blake, taking her place as guard at the door.

Blake tapped her comms. "Everything okay downstairs?"

" _All okay_ ," Seven confirmed. " _We're cleaning up_."

Blake was about to say she would come down to help, but Five tapped her arm and flicked her eyes over to Four, who looked a little lost just standing there and watching Two intimidate Fuentes.

"Hey, Four? Why don't you two go relax?" Five suggested.

He perked up immediately. "We can go onto the roof. Killer views up there."

Blake glanced around, then nodded. "Sure, why not. You sure you're okay here?"

"I'll call you if shit hits the fan, which it won't. Those silencers worked well."

"The pigs are completely unaware," Four agreed, making a move towards the door, more than happy to escape clean-up duties.

"One, you gonna come up now?" Five asked into her comms.

" _On my way now._ "

Five glanced at Blake, who was uncertainly looking back at Two. "What are you still doing here?" Five demanded. "Go!"

Blake gave in. Four took her hand and tugged her over to the skylight before One could see them shirking. He fully intended to take advantage of the City of Lights, and possibly spot a good running route to let off some steam later.

Pulling himself up over the rim, he carefully picked his way over to the edge, sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. Blake soon followed, perching beside him and taking the opportunity to redo her ponytail.

"Incredible views," she said, as she settled her hands down to lean back against the slanted tiles. "I've always liked Paris."

"Yeah, it's amazing. You can see the Eiffel Tower really clearly from here."

She bit her lip, watching him from the corner of her eye. "All I need now," she mused, "is a handsome Frenchman."

Four smirked and gave a flourish with his hand, as if bowing. "Bonjour, madame," he tried.

Blake couldn't help it; she burst out laughing, slapping a hand over her mouth to quell the noise in the quiet backstreets. "That was the _worst_ French accent I've _ever_ heard," she grinned, punching his arm lightly.

He shrugged, returning her grin. "I try."

Blake pushed herself upright and pulled Four over for a kiss, taking him by surprise. He gave a muffled yelp as he fell into her, and after a moment returned the kiss.

"I suppose I'll have to make do with an Englishman," she lamented, her fingers wandering down to the waistband of his jeans.

He caught her hand. "Here? Now?"

Nodding earnestly, she peppered kisses over his arm. "I'm up for it if you are."

"Fuck. Yeah, I'm up for it."

***

They laid sated under the moonlight. Four was buck-naked, glorifying in the freedom of having no clothes. Blake, however, had laid claim to his hoodie, luxuriating in its warmth and, more importantly, taking advantage the protection between her bare butt and the tiles.

"The sky is beautiful tonight," Four said, staring upwards.

Blake rested her head on his arm, turning her head to look at the side of his face. "So are you."

He let his head fall to the side, smiling lazily at her. "Isn't that meant to be the guy's line?"

"I think we crossed the line of gender roles... Mr Knight in Distress."

He pouted and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Don't ruin it. I was feeling fucking fabulous."

"You _are_ fabulous," she said.

"Careful," he joked. "You'll do bad things to my ego."

She shrugged and shuffled closer, into the crook of his arm. "It's only the truth."

"You're beautiful, too." She hummed non-committally and stared at the pink scar that ran around the front of his neck like a choker. "While we're giving compliments, the way you look is not the only thing I love about you," she murmured.

Utter silence followed. He slowly turned his head to look at her with wide eyes, and she frowned in confusion.

"Oh, shit." Blake sat up quickly.

Four reached for her. "It's okay, if you didn't mean it-"

"No, no I mean it. Shit." She buried her face in her hands, bringing her knees to her chest. "I was saving it for a special occasion."

He made a face, scrunching his nose sceptically. "Wait, so you _do_?"

Blake peeked out between her fingers, and he managed to pry them away from her face and back into her lap, where they stayed interlaced with his.

"I do," Blake confirmed. "I love you, Billy. For you. You're a selfless idiot who loves way too much, who's shit at hand-to-hand but tries sparring me anyways, just because you know you can get a kiss at the end-" she broke off as he snorted indignantly, and she poked him in the ribs, on his ticklish spot. "Oh, I see you, don't worry. There's so many things I love about you..." she trailed off, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of his hands. "And I've been thinking it for a while now, I just... didn't know how to say it."

"I love you too."

She blinked, opened her mouth, then shut it again. He watched the disbelief flicker across her face, the speechlessness seize her mouth.

"I know I haven't said it over the past year," he admitted, squeezing her hands, "but I didn't want to pressure you into anything."

"See?" Blake bit back tears, then buried her face in his shoulder just in case. "This is why I love you," she muttered.

He gently pulled back and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. "Say it again," he demanded greedily.

"I love you. I love you Billy," she repeated, going in for another kiss.

"Look what you've done to my ego." He grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart. "It's going crazy."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Sure you're not just worn out from the sex?" She glanced down and realised it was a stupid question.

"Never," he grinned. Seeing her in his hoodie was an aphrodisiac in itself.

Blake tapped her comms while Four scowled. ' _Cocktease',_ he mouthed, and she appeased him by putting her other hand down to jerk him off.

"Hey, Five, how's things going?" She asked conversationally.

" _He's being resistant. I'm not sure he'll have any toes left by the end of the evening_. _Seven's getting antsy that he's cleaning up and you two aren't._ "

Blake was rewarded with a frustrated moan as she left Four's cock alone and moved to pay attention to his chest.

"Buy us half hour?" She asked, tracing his muscles.

" _You got it_ ," Five replied, a hint of a smirk in her tone.

"So, Billy," Blake said, "now you have me all to yourself for another half an hour. What do you wanna-"

She was cut off by Four tugging her into a kiss, holding her head between his hands as she deepened.

"You know what I want," he smirked. She grinned back, reaching for the hem of his hoodie – blue, and oversized on her frame – but Four stayed her hands. "No, leave the hoodie _on_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: THE END.
> 
> Just kidding! The fun continues on our dedicated 6 Underground Discord. From general chats to drabbles and headcannons, you’re welcome to say as much or as little as you like! We’re a friendly bunch of AO3 writers (with some Wattpaddians mixed in too) from all over the world, so there’s usually at least one person active to chat to. 
> 
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> 
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